#spent the day in bed with a fever and aching all over | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loafgeto · 10 months

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PLEASE TAKE CARE OF ME

gojo satoru x fem!reader

synopsis: your boyfriend is sick, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t horny.

contents: fem!reader, explicit language, clingy/needy satoru, suguru’s entrance at the end, NSFW, dirty talk, dry humping(??), cockwarming, unprotected sex, creampie, orgasm, squirting, markings, not proofread

word count: 2.8k

notes: not me being sick at the same time😭😭

“102.3… gosh, satoru, how did you even get this fever? you were fine yesterday,” you utter speechlessly, observing the number on the thermometer before glancing down at your boyfriend, who’s panting softly while keeping an arm over his eyes. satoru groans, unable to answer since he didn’t even know how he got it himself.

“i-i don’t know..” satoru’s head was aching, and he was burning all over. you draped him in a hoodie and sweats, while the comforter covered his entire lower body. “it’s too hot..” he groans, pushing the collar of the hoodie down to feel some cool air brush against the skin of his neck. satoru indicated that he wants the garment off, but you remove his hand away and sigh.

“you need a lot of rest,” you remind, reaching for the towel damped with tepid water and placing it on his forehead. “there’s several water bottles next to you if you need it, remember you need to stay hydrated. i’ll be making some porridge for you. if you need anything, just holler for me.”

“babyyy, stay here- i don’t need all that,” satoru firmly grasps his hand around your wrist, refraining you from walking away. he was pouting, glassy eyes staring up at you like he’d break any moment. “yes, you do. don’t give me that look,” you furrow your brows as you gently push your arm away.

“won’t you at least give me a kiss?” satoru blurts before you could turn around. you shake your head, patting his face before grinning. “hmm, maybe. but after you eat, i’ll consider it,” you reply, hoping it’d be assuring for him to stay put in his bed.

“fine,” he obliges, sinking back into the mattress and keeping himself warm even when his body was literally trembling and burning. you’d give him a kiss but you wouldn’t want the fever spreading onto you. since tomorrow, there was an important meeting you needed to attend, and getting sick was the last thing on your mind. “good boy,” you decide tease him before quickly slipping away.

“h-hey!” satoru’s body shoots up, eyes following your figure quickly heading towards the door. you stick your tongue out at him, making him realize you were just messing with him so that you could leave. oh gosh, the way you were dressed and how he hadn’t touched you in days was starting to bother him, very intently.

you enter his kitchen, humming a short tune while retrieving the ingredients to make a simple and warm porridge to help with his fever. satoru was barely home, so there never any food stored in his cabinet or fridge. well, that’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer for you. what’s even more surprising is how he can get sick with a fever like this. strong my ass, you snicker. but all jokes aside, satoru is still a human being after all.

satoru normally his spent time at your place anyway, which is why his home is limited in several things. he had much bigger, luscious, and appealing house than yours, so why wouldn’t he want to be in here all of the time? you even thought about asking to live with him, since you two have been together for three years and it didn’t sound like a bad idea. and you were certain it’d be better since you could easily take care of him like this.

you can hear satoru cough from his room as you bring a pot to the stove. “satoru! do you want some tea and cough medicine?!” you holler to him, waiting for a response to which you didn’t receive. you shrug, deciding to brew tea for him anyway. this wasn’t your first time taking care of satoru while he’s sick— it was just so uncommon that you figured you’d never see the state again. but thankfully you’re still prepared with medicines and other medical supplies for these situations.

after you finished gathering all of the ingredients together, you decide to prepare congee porridge, since it’s simple and refreshing, especially for when you have an illness. with a smile on your face, you began following the directions of cooking the congee just like you remembered.

as you were beginning to cook the congee in the pot, you didn’t even realize the tall figure approaching behind of you. therefore, you couldn’t react in time before satoru wraps his arms around your lower body and pushes himself against your back. his mouth lowers near your neck and ear, making you feel the gentle breeze of his soft breath.

“s-satoru?!” you squeak, almost dropping the spoon you were using to stir the congee. you turn your head slightly, feeling the heat of his body absorbing into your skin, but he seems to be relaxing slightly. “what are you doing? you need to be in bed, now.”

“don’t wanna..” satoru replies in a low voice as his lips gently grazes against your shoulder. his needy touch nearly sends shivers down your spine, but you two couldn’t be doing this, not when he’s sick. “fuck, baby.. i need you.. s’bad.. don’t care if i’m sick.. please..” he whines, pressing himself closer to you.

“‘toru- wait, stop!” you gasp, pushing yourself back so that you wouldn’t counter the hot surface of the stove. you give satoru a firm glare, but he’s too distracted with his own arousal to even notice. “how are.. why are you-? satoru, please, we can’t. you need to go back to bed right now,” you add, sighing in between while trying to nudge him away.

“n-no.. can’t,” satoru groans, pressing his face into your neck. he was panting gently again, trying to inhale your scent and feel up against your soft skin. “‘ve been so needy for you..” he whispers and you can feel his erection poking your ass as he starts grinding his hips slowly.

“sa-satoru, wait-“ you bite your lips, trying to resist yourself. you need to remember that he’s sick, and that he needed all the rest and care he could get in order to feel better. but his clinginess and neediness, his little whines and pants desperately calling and seeking for your touch wasn’t helping at all. satoru could almost feel your hips pushing back against his, making a faint smirk appear on his lips.

“don’t you see that? your body’s already moving for ya, you want it too, don’t you?” satoru whispers, pressing gentle kisses behind your ear and down your neck. “satoru-“ a quiet moan leaves your lip, as you feel one of his hands trail towards your inner thighs.

you do, of course you want it, but you both can’t do it.

“can i put it in, baby? please? i won’t move at all, i promise. just wanna feel your warm pussy around me, please,” satoru begs, the material of his sweats already outlining the size and shape of his aching cock. “n-no.. satoru.. you can do everything else but just don’t put it in,” you reply, glancing at him and he just nods. you couldn’t believe you said yes instead of forcing him back to bed, but you couldn’t resist his short seduction.

satoru bends you over slightly, lifting the skirt of the dress you were wearing and starts grinding his hips slowly against your ass, pressing his bulge into the soaked spot of your panties. you held back your moans, returning your attention to the congee that was barely even cooking. it was hard to make sure the porridge was being cooked properly because of satoru’s movements and the sounds he was making.

“f-fuck.. i can feel how wet you are- ngh- i c-could cum any second,” satoru moans, pushing his head back slightly as his hands grip around the sides of your ass. he starts grinding his hips faster, rubbing his clothed cock against the wet material covering your cunt. he desperately wanted you to cockwarm him, even if his body was already too warm enough to handle. he just couldn’t resist anymore, but he’s got to now that he notices you cooking.

“‘t-toru, please- slow down,” you request, unable to hold your moans as he nudges and roughly grinds himself against your pussy. it felt so damn good, making you aroused as much as he is. “ssshit,” satoru moans, moving his hips faster after you told him to reduce his speed. just how can he slow down when you two are already like this?

“fuck baby- i can’t.. please just let me put it in. please,” satoru begs again, his cock grinding far into you that it was almost pushing through the fabric of your clothes and into your pussy. “please, baby? please take care of me down here too,” he whimpers, pleading in desperation as his fingers start gently tugging the material of your panties.

“okay- fine. you can put it in..” you nod, giving him a short glance and satoru’s face lights up. now, there was no turning back for you. would you regret this later? probably, but at the moment, you didn’t possibly care for the outcomes. “but no moving..”

satoru removes his hoodie before pushing his sweats and tight boxers down, freeing his hard cock that slaps against his lower abs. you bite down on your lower lips, gazing at the sight of your boyfriend’s fat dick about to be stuffed into you. satoru gives his cock several short and slow pumps, spreading his leaked pre-cum against the skin of your ass cheeks before moving your panties to the side and lining himself at your entrance.

he holds the sides of your hips again, groaning and pushing his cock past your folds and deep into your wet cunt. you breathe a short gasp, moaning instantly while your walls clench tightly around his girth. satoru nearly cums because of the sensation and warmth of your hole, and almost starts thrusting— but he remembers that he was just going to put it in, and nothing else.

“i-i still have to cook.. your porridge, satoru-“ you manage to slip out, feeling your gummy walls pulsate around his cock. satoru grunts, grip tightening around your hips as he nods his head. “i know.. but fuck- just keep letting me feel your warm pussy like this,” satoru replies, pushing the rest of his length into you.

your focus on the congee was short when you shift your hips back slightly, feeling satoru’s dick twitch inside as your ass knocks against his pelvic area. it was overbearing to be unable to rock back against him and feel his cock kiss your deepest parts— you’d be opposing your own words. you lower the heat of the stove, almost completely turning it off as you realize you’re probably not going to finish the porridge anytime soon.

“t-thought you said no moving?” satoru huffs, pouting before slightly pushing out and back in. you moan, shaking your head. “i did…” you reply, turning your head around and meeting his gaze. his blue eyes were glistening, full of lust that he was withholding. however, seeing your face was enough for satoru to start thrusting very slowly.

satoru’s sensual grazes against your walls was causing louder moans to stumble from your mouth. you grip around him, sucking in his cock as you can feel him penetrate your deepest parts with his steady motions. you had to turn off the stove completely before satoru pushes you against the kitchen counter, fastening his thrusts.

“n-ngh, satoru- wait-“ you mewl, gripping the edge of the counter as you glance back at his flushed face. but he didn’t even allow you to continue speaking as he hoists one of your thighs, hand tightening the fat and plunging his cock deeper into your cunt. “fuckfuck- you need to slow down-“ you choke out, quite appalled at how satoru even had this much energy in him to fuck you like this. it didn’t matter though, since you’re clearly enjoying it.

“shit baby, i-i wanna fuck your pussy forever. you feel- so damn good,” satoru chants, hips banging into your ass as his pants start becoming heavier. he forgot that he was even sick himself, his neediness for you was overwhelming to the point he thought about nothing except drilling his cock into you like this. “o-oh god, ‘toru- pleasepleaseplease~” you cry out, head falling forward as he ravages your swollen cunt.

“fuck- please forgive me, baby. i can’t hold myself back anymore,” satoru says before lowering his body over yours, arms entirely laced around your waist and lips meeting the skin of your shoulder blades as he’s now pounding into you. you’re both moaning messes, grinding your bodies and feeling each other’s warmth. you can feel satoru’s cock rubbing your g-spot and his heavy balls smack your folds as your arousal starts trickling down your inner thighs.

“sa-satoru~ i’m g’nna cum-“ you whine, pushing your ass back as he’s still thrusting, erratically and sloppy but rough that it’s causing you to reach your orgasm. satoru presses soft kisses on certain areas of your shoulder, bringing one hand down to stroke circles against your clit. the touch was nearly making your eyes roll back, and the contractions of your pussy tighter around him.

“ngh- yes baby, cum on this cock that’s s’needy for you,” satoru whimpers, using his tongue to lick the lobe of your ear. his body was becoming exhausted, but he’s greedy and desires to fill your womb with his thick and warm load. satoru craves the feel of your delicate skin and inner parts of your pussy that’s squeezing him dry, stimulating him to pound you faster.

you squint, the sockets of your eyes welling with hot tears that stream down your face each time you blinked. your fingertips jab into the hard surface of the kitchen counter and your legs become wobbly that it’s nearly difficult to maintain standing. satoru’s mouth kisses and licks each area of your skin that he could find, before gently biting down and nibbling the flesh. it’d probably leave red marks later, but your mind doesn’t necessarily think of the idea as you’re occupied with satoru’s cock still abusing your hole.

after satoru’s each passing hard thrusts, you cum all over him— sensations of pleasure pumping throughout your entire body from your orgasm. your ejaculation squirts on satoru’s thighs and drips to the ground, making your body tremble. satoru cums next, dipping several deep strokes into your cunt and groaning your name as his warm semen milks your womb full.

you both stand there for a long moment, breathing heavily while your bodies are still pressed close together. satoru keeps his cock in you, making sure that none of his cum drips out of you and kisses your neck in a soft manner. “thanks baby.. i feel better now,” he whispers by your ear, his tone enunciating his exhaustion.

“hey- don’t fall asleep on me now! we have to clean up,” you give him a slight glare as his head raises up. satoru pouts, before nodding and stepping back. he slips his cock out, immediately feeling odd with not having you clench around him.

satoru thought of something that nearly sent blood rushing to his dick and he gives you that one stare as you push your dress back over your ass. “can you suck me off?” satoru requests, eyes sparkling with the anticipation of you saying yes.

“no.”

“then what about my kiss?”

“no, satoru. you didn’t even eat the congee,” you reply firmly, feeling yourself quiver as his cum tries to drip out of you. but maybe your next words could encourage something, or not since you two needed to clean up. “go to the bathroom, i’ll meet you there and maybe i’ll give you a kiss.”

“a-achoo!”

suguru gives you a glance, brows raised as he lifts the folder in his hands between you and him like he’s trying to not catch whatever you have. “bless you. gosh, are you sure you’re okay? you’ve been sneezing so much and it’s only 10 in the morning,” he states.

“i’m fine, suguru. just allergies,” you reply with a shrug, knowing damn well where you’re getting this ‘allergy’ from. of course, suguru was skeptical but nodded his head as you two proceed down the hall.

the meeting was less than 20 minutes, and as suguru was speaking with several of the first year students, you quickly dart to your office and search for a thermometer in your desk.

“101.3,” you read out quietly, blinking several times. but who were you to be surprised?

you: look, i’m sick

you sent the message to satoru, along with a photo attachment of the thermometer that read your body temperature. and not even a minute later, he reads it and replies.

satoru <3: well, guess we should go for another round today then ;)

LOAFGETO. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

a/n: pls i want this cold to go away😭😭 if anyone’s sick rn, i hope you feel better quick <3 (likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! have a nice day)

#loafgeto #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo oneshot #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk gojo smut #anime smut #18+ minors dni #divider by cafekitsune

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natalievoncatte · 5 months

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It began with a sneeze.

Lena’s entire body tensed, pain wracking her sinuses, and she tried to tamp it down and swallow it. There was a room full of investors, and she paused mid-presentation. She held up a protesting hand, signaling that she needed no help, and waved off her assistants. Finally the feeling subsided and she soldiered on, accidentally repeating part of the presentation. It didn’t matter, it was just a formality.

After, she was sitting alone in her office and she did sneeze this time, hard, into a silk handkerchief. A dull ache had settled into her bones and she felt droopy, tired. Still, she had work to do. Not the work she wanted to do. Not running the company, not strategizing. Not inventing or innovating. It was menial. It was assigned. She worked for her brother.

It was his pretty revenge, because Lena shot him two times in the chest. Then a bunch of very strange shit happened and Lena suddenly found herself in an entirely different world where Lex had never died, even though they both remembered it. A hellish nightmare world where Lillian was a philanthropist and Kara and all her friends worked more or less for Lex, keeping aliens in check.

Lena couldn’t go to her best friend for help, because her best friend had betrayed her. Lena almost wished she’d been erased when the multiverse collapsed, replaced by a copy of herself who’d never felt this agony.

There was a truth she would never admit, even to herself.

She’d feel better if Kara was here.

The days dragged on and so did her cold. Except, it wasn’t a cold. On the third day she woke to a high fever, feeling a little wobbly when she forced herself out of bed. Her sinuses burned and she had to breathe through her mouth. When she took her temperature, it was elevated, close to being dangerous. Every muscle and joint on her body ached and the sight of food made her retch involuntarily.

Lena had the goddamn flu.

She did something she’d never done: by a curt email, she informed her staff that she was ill and would not be in the office today. Instead, she rummaged through her closet, her breath catching on a familiar sweatshirt.

It was a Midvale High School Mathletes sweater. It was Kara’s, but Lena knew with a certainty that Kara had not been in Lena’s penthouse since It Happened. There was no way for this to get here but…

She stifled a sob. This world had its own Lena, one whose life she’d appropriated or merged with or God knows what, and that Lena Kara’s clothes in her home. Lena kept stumbling across them and it hurt more every time.

Had they been happy, before? Kara must have spent the night. They must have been close. Lena had been close with her Kara; they hung out and Kara had slept over a few times but they weren’t really on your-clothes-in-my-closet terms. Had that been what happened here? Did they share the bed? Were they…

Did they…

Lena put it on, felt it shelter her body. She put in two pairs of leggings and hoped her laptop would warm her. She curled with it on the couch, and got exactly nothing done. After three hours she closed the computer and flipped channels until she found the old friend of the seriously ill and the chronically unemployed: reruns.

Curling on one end of the couch, she laid her head to rest on the arm and her eyes slid closed.

It seemed that as soon as she did, she opened them again. Her head was throbbing. She tried to push herself up, but it was too great an effort and she flopped down again. Her throat was dry and sticky, and unable to breathe through her nose, air came in reedy wheezes. Swallowing only made it worse, and she felt a rising panic.

Something beyond sleep, thick and heavy, was dragging her down, even as she struggled.

A chill night breeze rolled over her, and she shivered explosively.

"Easy now. I've got you."

Powerful arms lifted her limp body and carried her. Gently, Lena was laid on her bed and a blanket thrown over her.

She opened her eyes. Kara sat her up, cradling her in one arm as she held a glass in another, so Lena could drink. She let the cool water wet her throat and did her best to breathe again. Gently, Kara lowered her back down to rest and folded a cool, damp cloth on her forehead. Lena sighed in relief.

“Get out. Don’t want you here.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara whispered. “I can’t leave you alone like this. I’ll be right back.”

She was indeed right back, Supergirl walking into Lena’s budoir carrying a drug store bag full of medicine. She sat Lena up again and administered the foul tasting stuff over Lena’s protests, then shut off the lights.

Lena tried to roll on her side. It didn’t go well.

Kara knelt and slipped out of her boots. Then, she undid one side, then the other, and unclasped her cape from her shoulders. She then swept it over Lena and tucked it around her gently.

“Kara,” Lena muttered.

“Hush. It’s a blanket. It’ll keep you warm.”

Lena wasn’t sure what happened next, if she dreamed it or if it was real, but she felt the bed shift as Kara climbed aboard and laid down beside her.

Eventually, she woke up again. Kara was tucked against her back, one arm thrown protectively over Lena’s side, resting on her blanket cocoon. Kara snored lightly, lying on the bed so that her chin rested on the crown of Lena’s head.

Kara noticed she’d stirred and silently stood, offering Lena her next dose of syrupy, nasty medicine. She accepted it just as silently and laid back down to sleep.

The cycle continued. Day came. Kara didn’t leave her. She drew the curtains and laid on the bed beside Lena, never speaking, never making any demands.

Finally Lena was well enough to roll over and face her.

“Why are you here?”

“I heard Gillian’s Island coming from your living room and thought you must be in danger.”

Lena snorted in spite of herself.

Kara softened. Her big blue eyes, eyes that could launch a thousand ships, carried such a weight of sorrow that Lena felt a surge of pain and regret in her heart, wondering why in the hell they were feuding. No. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t just…

“I’m sorry.”

Lena tucked herself into the blankets. She wanted to roll over, to turn away, to stop this before she did something she would regret later.

“I keep finding your things in my place,” Kara murmured. “It makes me wonder if it was different here. If we were different. What if I’d made other choices. If I’d been honest with you. Bolder.”

“You weren’t,” said Lena. “You aren’t. That’s the way it is. That door was closed.”

“When I landed on your balcony, it was open.”

“A mistake I won’t repeat. Careless. Thank you for helping me, but I didn’t need it. I don’t need you.”

Kara closed her eyes and sighed.

“I hate doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“You’re lying.”

Lena jerked back, as much as her aching body would allow, anyway.

“How do you know?”

It didn’t hit Lena that she hadn’t offered a denial, at least not until later.

“Easy,” Kara smiled. “I cheat. Skin conductivity and moisture levels. Heat bloom on your skin. Pulse. Pupil dilation. Breathing patterns.”

“I have the flu. That’s why.”

Kara frowned.

“You’re wearing my sweater.”

“It’s not yours. It’s hers. The lives we stole.”

Kara shook her head. “That’s not what he did. Your brother created this world to live out his fantasies and make me suffer. That’s why your things are at my place and mine at yours. It’s showing us the life we should have had,” a tear shone on Kara’s cheek, “had I not been a fuckup and a coward. If I’d trusted you.”

Lena choked back a small sob, and started to cough violently.

Without a word, Kara gathered her up and rested Lena’s head on her shoulder, walling her up in those beefy, protective arms of hers. Lena allowed it, curling her fingers against the twitching muscles of Kara’s back.

Lena wanted to pull away…

No. That was a lie, a miserable fucking lie. She didn’t want to pull back. She didn’t want to fight. She thought she had to, that she needed to.

“Don’t cry,” Kara said, tenderly brushing a tear from Lena’s cheek. “I know you’re furious with me. I know things are bad. I know your brother has power over us. It’ll get better. I won’t let him hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

“You already hurt me.”

“I know,” Kara whimpered, her voice wobbling. “I’m sorry, Lena. I’ve never been more sorry about anything in my entire life. I wake up every day praying I can find some way to take it back."

"You can't."

Kara tensed.

"Maybe you don't have to," said Lena.

Kara's breath caught. She lowered Lena to the bed, and this time wrapped them in the blankets together. She was so warm.

"I've got you."

Blessedly, Lena slept.

Each time she woke, she felt better. Eventually, she was well enough for Kara to leave the bed. A few minutes later, Kara came back, and she brought breakfast. Her appetite back, Lena dug in, enjoying the tea Kara brought.

Kara took the tray and plates when she was done.

"You look a lot better."

Lena nodded. "Ah, yes, thank you."

Silence. There was a heavy pause, and then Kara sat down beside her on the bed.

"I wish I'd been brave before."

Lena looked at her, really looked at her, this enchanting vision looking at Lena like she hung all the stars in the sky, her eyes so full of longing that Lena felt she might fall into them forever.

"What would you do if you were brave?"

"This."

Warm fingers curled around Lena's chin. Kara leaned in, and Lena felt it happen even before their lips touched. When they did, it was electric. Lena felt the world spinning. Kara caught her and lowered her to the bed.

"I don't care about multiverses and cosmic entities and your evil brother. No matter what they throw at me, I will always find my way back to you. If you want me."

Lena pulled her down into another kiss, and that was her answer.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #kisscorp #first supercorp kiss #yet another love confession #yet another first kiss #apologycorp #make up sexcorp #supercorp hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #sickfic

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ludwig-van-gaythoven · 4 months

Text

Cabin Fever - (Regina George x F Reader) Part 6

Fandom;

Mean Girls (2024)

Pairings:

Regina George x Reader

Summary:

The students of Northshore go on a school trip for a week in the forest. You end up getting to know the apex predator in a way you’d never seen her before.

Warnings;

Underage smoking, homophobia.

Parts;

Part1// Part 2// Part 3// Part 4// Part 5// Part 6

It had been 2 days since the camping trip ended, 4 days since you last heard anything from Janis, and approximately 3 days since you kissed Regina George, and Regina George kissed you back. Not that you were counting.

The morning after, she had woken up before you and was already packing your campsite away before you had the chance to speak to her. Gretchen, Karen and Shane had already found you and you had to walk back to the meeting point as a group. Regina was back to being all over Shane again, she spent most of the walk back draped over his shoulder. She didn’t try and make the usual snarky comments towards you, she just ignored you entirely.

Back to being invisible I guess.

You sat alone on the coach journey back. Regina was sat with Gretchen and Karen again. You tried to steal a few pleading glances at her but she never met your eyes.

Your apartment feels emptier that usual when you get back. You manage to avoid thinking about the whole situation all weekend, busying yourself with video games and sleep to try and avoid spontaneously combusting from anxiety at the thought of going to school on Monday. The floor of your apartment is littered with takeaway containers, you don’t have the mental or physical energy to cook this weekend.

When Monday morning rolls round, you sort of wish you’d spontaneously combusted because it’d be much less messy than the eventual argument with Janis would be.

You’re not sure who you’re more anxious to see. It’s likely Regina will go back to ignoring your entire existence so it’s not like anything dramatic would happen. You hope.

You sigh and drag your aching body out of bed in a desperate attempt to shake off the sleep. You have a quick shower to wash away the depression of the past weekend and throw on some jeans and a T-shirt. You make sure you remember to pick up your headphones, they’re likely to be needed today.

You grab your car keys and open the car door. To your surprise, the car actually starts first time.

On the drive there you hope you hit every red light possible, or maybe your car breaks down. Anything so you don’t have to face Regina, or Janis.

Usually Janis would come over at the weekend. She thinks it’s cool you live alone and you usually spend the time playing video games together, getting drunk, smoking or just generally hanging out. Janis was the first person, apart from family that you’d told about being a lesbian. She was the first one to react positively at least. She came out to you a week later.

Because you spent so much time together you thought you might have a crush on her. She was cute, and you enjoyed spending time together. It still makes you cringe when you remember her kissing you one drunken night. You both agreed that it wasn't a romantic attraction and luckily managed to laugh it off and go back to normal. Especially since Janis had admitted to being in love with someone else who didn’t feel the same way.

Imagine Janis’s reaction if she knew you’d kissed Regina.

When you arrive you immediately spot Regina’s pink jeep, it wasn’t exactly hard to find. You also see Janis’s beaten up car, chips in the paintwork that she had filled with colorful acrylic. There’s probably no point in trying to find Regina, she wouldn’t dare risk her status speaking to you in public, so you decide to try and find Janis before classes start. You miss her a lot.

As you walk into the building you spot her and Damien in the same spot you meet every morning, does that mean they were waiting for you? Maybe Janis has forgiven you over the weekend, you haven’t had an argument before that’s lasted more than one day.

Clearly not because as soon as she spots you walking over she rolls here eyes and starts to walk away at speed. You try and shout after her but she turns at yells back.

“Sorry, don’t want you to think I’m obsessed with you!” And flips you off. Damien just gives you an apologetic shrug and follows after her.

It makes your blood boil slightly. It wasn’t just your fault! She was also being a dick!

You consider sneaking out behind the bins in the car park for a cigarette to try and calm your anger, it seems like a good plan, even if you miss the start of class.

You stay well out of the eye line of teachers as you slink out to the car park and light a much needed cigarette, you sigh out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

Someone appears out of the corner of your eye, coming around the corner of the bins. There’s nowhere to hide, you brace yourself to be chewed out by a teacher.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

It’s Janis.

You ignore her and take a long drag of your cigarette. She sighs and lights her own. You both stand in silence, staring out at the road.

“I’m sorry.” You both say at once. Janis shoots you a shy smile.

“I overreacted.” She rubs her arm nervously. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me on purpose.”

A pang of guilt sparks in your chest and makes you feel sick.

“I shouldn’t have said you’re obsessed with Regina, I know that’s opening old wounds.” You offer back.

Her shoulders loosen and she swaps her cigarette into her other hand, reaching out towards you.

“Truce?” She says with a dorky grin.

You take her hand.

“Truce.” You laugh back and shake it.

You both finish your cigarette and head back to class. It feels better to not be fighting with your best friend but you still haven’t exactly told the truth.

It’s not like you were ever going to kiss Regina again. Maybe Janis didn’t have to know this small detail.

The day feels like it’s dragging on forever, you’re too busy thinking about what happened with Regina, and debating what you should have said to Janis to pay attention to any lessons, especially not this one.

It’s health class, otherwise known as the most awkward and cringey explanation of sex done by a teacher who clearly wants a pay rise but won’t get one. Nobody is really paying attention, only the boys who laugh and yell anytime the teacher says the word ‘penis’.

This is the only class you share with Regina. She’s sitting at the back of the room, filing her nails into perfect claws, with her legs draped across Shane Oman. The sight of it makes your stomach flip.

She clearly catches you staring because she meets your eyes and scowls. She pushes her legs further up Shane’s, whose face goes red. He’s probably just got the most embarrassing hard on. You roll your eyes at her, bold move, she scowls more.

At least she’s not ignoring you entirely.

You feel your phone buzz. It’s Janis sending some stupid meme, it makes you smile, you message her back with a meme you’d saved the night before.

Regina suddenly clears her throat and interrupts the class.

“I think we should learn more about lesbian sex to help some people in this class” she smirks and sends you a pointed look.

Your face heats up. Did she know you were talking to Janis? Was she hacked into your phone? Was she worried you were telling everyone about the kiss? You feel anger boil up inside again.

Two can play at that game.

“I actually think we should learn about avoiding teen pregnancy.” You shoot back, raising an eyebrow at her. There’s an eruption of laughter and Regina looks pissed.

“At least I’m getting some!”

“Both of you, out! Go to the library and I’ll see you after class to give you your assignments, and an hour’s detention.” The teacher shouts.

Regina hops off of Shane’s lap and scoffs like it’s some huge injustice and you follow behind, leaving a generous amount of room between you.

When you get to the library you’re the only ones there. It’s silent and the air tastes like stale books. Regina practically throws her bag down and storms off to the far end of the library. You stomp to the other end in an attempt to be as far away from her as possible.

You unlock your phone and think about texting Janis about what just happened but that would require more explanation and probably cause another fight.

You slump down against one of the shelves of books and decide to scroll tumblr instead.

“You know just because you kissed me it doesn’t mean I’m like in love with you.” You glance up and Regina is standing above you now with her arms folded.

Her blue eyes are fixed on you, you trail your gaze down. She’s wearing a short white skirt and a pink crop top with a grey hoodie. Her hair bounces in loose curls against her shoulders. You hope she didn’t catch you looking.

“I never said you were.” You growl.

“I didn’t even want to kiss you.” She spits back.

It stings a little, but you can’t let her have the last word.

“Yeah well, kissing you was a mistake anyway.” You quip back. It’s probably true, you don’t regret it though. You’d kiss Regina again, a hundred times.

“That’s bullshit.” Her brows furrow. “You’re obsessed with me.”

“Jesus Regina, you’ve said that about so many people. Get your head out of your ass.” You snap and she huffs and moves closer, looming over you.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?.”

You stand.

“I said, get your head out of your ass. If you’re so bothered by a kiss, why did you kiss me back?” You challenge, you’re not entirely sure where the confidence has come from but Regina has a way of getting you so riled up you can’t hold back.

She snarls and pins you against the shelf of books, her blonde locks fall either side of you and one book hits the ground with a thud, the pages splaying and creasing against the ground.

You feel like prey.

Suddenly she lunges at you. You expect pain, a fist to the face, a slap but instead you feel her lips pressed hard against yours, it feels like it’ll bruise.

You hear the door to the library open and she bites down on your lip hard before pulling away.

You can taste the metallic tang of blood on your tongue.

The teacher walks in and sets a bag down on one of the desks. He attempts to tell you both off for your behaviour in class but you can tell he’s intimidated by Regina’s icy glare.

“Because both of you decided to get yourselves sent out, you didn’t get the chance to pick your partners for this assignment, so you’ll be paired together.”

You hear Regina groan dramatically. This is familiar.

The teacher unzips the bag and pulls out a baby doll in a car seat. Your eyes widen.

“You two will be co parenting for a week. The baby has sensors and at the end of the week we will be able to track how you held the baby, how long you let him cry, when he’s fed and more. Here’s a workbook, I expect you both to fill it out during this week with the baby. If you fail this assignment, you’ll have to do it again for another week so don’t think about turning it off.” He places the car seat on the desk and hands you the workbook before leaving swiftly. He obviously didn’t want to be there for Regina’s outburst.

“This is your fucking fault for mentioning pregnancy you idiot.” She yells. This makes the doll start crying which enrages her more.

“Would you shut up! You’re making him cry.” You whisper shout back. It’s not like you care about it but you wish it would shut up before it gives you a headache.

“Whatever, you’re a single parent this week, good luck.” She shrugs, grabs her bag and leaves you with the crying doll.

Typical.

You pick up the car seat and follow her out. Your car and hers are the last ones in the car park.

You watch her walk away and unlock your door and clip the car seat into the passenger side. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to put it in the back, but it’s not like it’s a real baby.

You put the key in and turn.

The car makes an awful spluttering sound and you see a plume of dark grey smoke from the back window.

The doll is still screaming and you groan, dropping your head on the steering wheel which lets out a long honk.

You hear an engine rumbling behind your car and Regina leans out the side of her jeep.

“Get in loser, I’ll take you home.”

#wlw #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george fanfic #regina george x reader #regina george x you #mean girls #mean girls fanfic #renee rapp #cabin fever

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tired-biscuit · 1 year

Text

18+ MDNI, fem!omega!reader/alpha!kiba // cw: omegaverse, knotting, breeding. established relationship.

↳ you slip into heat at the worst time imaginable; right on kiba’s 30th birthday. as a result, nothing goes according to plan.

“ugh, i’m so sorry.”

you barely recognize the sound of your own voice as you listen to the quiet sigh your boyfriend lets out as soon as he wraps his strong arms around you from behind.

your bedroom is enveloped in darkness despite the fact that it’s summer — a particularly hot one this year — and the alarm clock on your nightstand shows that it’s barely a little past eight in the evening. it’s still light outside, the sky is clear and pretty, but the curtains that frame your window are drawn tight. the only source of light comes in the form of a single orange streak that seeps from the hallway through the crack in the door.

as of right now, it sits on the corner of your pillow that you’re resting your head on, unmoving. judging by the progressing hour, as well as the way faint warmth begins to tickle the top of your head at that very instant, you suppose it won’t take long until the ray settles on your already much too hot cheek as well.

nuzzling your face further into the cotton, crisp white bedding, you can’t help but let your eyes roll in evident dread at the realization. if your current situation is to be taken into any form of consideration, extra heat is the last thing you need right now.

kiba’s weight makes him sink deeper into the mattress when he readjusts on top of the bed you’d spent ages curled up in, trying to find solace all by yourself; that is until he’d shown up.

he had barely stepped foot inside your apartment when the scent of what was going on had hit him square in the face and had led him straight to you. granted, you’d vaguely texted him about it beforehand as to not make him worry too much, whilst also explaining why you couldn’t make it to his birthday dinner, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

and while he’d thought he could handle it as he sat in his car and drove over to your place instead of the restaurant where you were supposed to meet, he’s not so sure that can be the case anymore.

after all, you smell outright intoxicating. it’s so profound and intense, your scent. so sweet that it almost makes his teeth ache. but it’s not just the smell of you that coaxes him to slip into protector mode and start acting on instinct — though it is a key factor here. no, it’s the fact that every single aspect of you in that very moment is designed to lure an alpha like him right in. to lock him into mating.

always known to be a headstrong, self-assured kind of man; one with clear boundaries and a rare ability to make definite choices without any sort of trouble — oftentimes on a whim — kiba finds himself feeling perplexed for the first time in a long while.

to put it simply, he doesn’t know what to do. he’s got his girlfriend, a naked omega in heat, wrapped in his arms. he’s got the most raging boner that he’s ever had in his life twitching and throbbing in his pants, pressing so stubbornly against the zipper that it hurts like a motherfucker. he’s got a sudden wildfire overtaking his senses and fast-crumbling sanity.

but what he doesn’t have is consent.

every inhale he executes now, it’s like he’s turning into a brainless insect at best. you’re pure sugar, fruit dipped in honey, and every thought he has dissipates into nothing because of it. he’s ready to carelessly drown in the nectar if it means you’ll let him devour you whole.

will you, though?

god, never mind that for now; his pushy alpha brain cannot possibly bring itself to think about you refusing him at a crucial time like this. all that matters is that he shows you that he’s ready to help you out, to make it clear as day. your sudden heat has induced a rut from his side and it’s starting to give him a fever as the first signs of it step into the spotlight.

it’s all happening so fast, his pants are already feeling way too tight. there’s a blush creeping up his neck, tinting his ears and cheeks a bright red, and pre-cum is turning his underwear sticky. one second he was fine, albeit slightly worried for your wellbeing. now, he’s horny out of his fucking mind and his dick just won’t stop growing bigger.

so as a result, his shoes now lay discarded in the middle of your bedroom from the way he had hurried to get to you as soon as possible. his keys and phone had practically been tossed to the side on your nightstand, carelessly. the screen sometimes lights up with birthday wishes from friends and family, most of who you’ve already met, but neither of you cares about it in that moment. he’ll type his thank you’s in the morning.

you exhale a breath you’d forgotten you were holding when he brings you closer to his chest, embracing you until your limbs become entangled with his own longer ones and your naked spine touches the buttons of the fancy navy blue button up shirt you’d suggested he put on back when you’d still thought you could endure this entire ordeal that you’re currently suffering through.

his belt buckle is cold. it almost feels like a blessing when it presses against your sizzling hot skin.

“hey,” is all he says.

“oh, god,” you grit out in reply, practically heaving at this point. the amount of saliva that starts to gather on the flat of your tongue the moment your body senses he’s near is ungodly. it’s unnatural, the way you respond to him.

“i know,” he coos softly even if he doesn’t know; he can’t possibly know what it’s like to endure a thing like this. but he tries. “here, lemme… i gotcha, baby. shh.”

a strangled little sound leaves your lips when he holds you still and starts to scent you without even giving it a second thought. to the surprise of both of you, you comply without any sort of fuss as he drags his hands all over your stiff, naked body, effectively easing the overly tense muscle into something a bit more lax and bearable. you don’t even notice how hard you’d been clenching your jaw until he coaxes you into relaxing it with a couple of strokes from his fingers.

slipping into heat completely unprepared can be a pesky little thing for an organized, perfectionist omega like yourself. when you’re so used to leading an independent lifestyle in a society that certainly doesn’t lend you a helping hand with it, and indulge in endless persistance of being in complete control of your body at all times, the occasional flood of hormones that turns you embarrassingly docile is immensely unwelcomed as far as you’re concerned.

yes, blatantly aching to be bred by your alpha’s cock like you’re some bitch in heat is seen as embarrassing in your eyes even if that’s exactly what you are. you believe there’s a lot more to you than just rolling onto your back and acting submissive towards your more dominant partner, thus listening to that wretched primal part of your brain that’s taken center stage inside your skull for now, but at the same time…

it is just so unbelievably hard to fight instinct when he’s right there behind you, with his hips pressed so closely to your own. so hard to ignore and not burn at the way his touch turns noticeably more possessive over the span of a couple of moments of comforting strokes he otherwise gives to your body. so hard to dismiss the way your heartbeats align and your cores reach the exact same temperature.

he even smells invitingly delicious. the rut you’d unintentionally sent him spiralling into had changed the base of his scent in mere minutes. its only aim now is to make him as alluring as possible to you so that you will enable him to mate and reproduce. and he’s not even to blame.

aftershave riddles his otherwise signaturely musky scent; it softens the almost overbearing notes of pure alpha. when he raises his hand to stroke his fingers along your jaw for a second time around, you’re briefly present enough to also catch hints of coconut adorning his tan skin. it’s rich and summery, perfectly him.

he must have used the pricey shower gel you’d bought to surprise him for your anniversary a few months back, because he’s gotten all tidied up for date night that’s now definitely not going to happen because of your ‘condition’, or whatever you want to call it.

either way, it’s the fucking worst. to say that the entire thing is a bust would be an understatement. even the super secret birthday party that you’ve planned for ages had to be rescheduled because of the way how your skin feels like it’s being pulled too tight over your bones, the flames erupting.

i mean, slick is literally dripping out of your soaked pussy like you’re a fucking hose, goddammit. did you really think you’d be suitable for socializing in your current state?

part of it is your own fault, you suppose. ignoring the symptoms and the evident increase in your body temperature that’s been building up over the last few days because you had something to prove was a stupid idea. believing the fact that your sheer will and determination would be able to keep the worst of your heat at bay, without the usage of any sort of suppressants at least until the weekend had passed, had been an even stupider one.

and now you’re stuck paying the consequences.

“i’m sorry,” you feebly parrot the apology that you’re still slightly unsure about if you mean to give to him or yourself. perhaps it’s both. at this point, who knows?

there’s a beat of silence before he whispers, “you’re sorry for what?”

the rasp in his voice pulls you back from your troubled thoughts that just won’t stop whirling around one possible solution to this agony: dick.

have you really stooped so low?

fighting to at least keep your sanity if you can’t keep your pride, you try to focus whilst straining your ears. try to actually listen to him. despite speaking quietly, he sounds almost breathless. like he’s struggling to be in your presence, doing absolutely nothing about the problem at hand.

you should let him do something. better yet, you should let him in.

come on. be a good girl. a good little omega.

let him in.

“for, uh… mmh,” your brow furrows as you try to find the right words you’re looking for. fuck this stupid omega brain of yours, truly. “for ruining your birthday just like i’m ruining your pants right now; gosh, i dunno.”

heat sears your face at the thought of the milky white residue you’ve surely left coating his jeans in copious amounts. instead of keeping you in-check, the image of it only makes you all the more hot and bothered. god help you.

“it’s fine,” he assures you way too fast, swallowing thickly.

the action is audible. listening to it, you can imagine how his adam’s apple bobs with it. up and down, so subtle but just so attractive. his neck appears in your mind’s eye, that sweaty, muscular throat of his, with the vein protruding on the side and— stop it.

“i-it’s not fine! what part of this looks fine to you…?” you groan as you shake your head in disbelief. he’s so close, you just need him so badly. it makes you unable to think straight. “we had plans, for crying out loud!”

“we can take a raincheck.”

“but you’ve just entered your thirties!”

“so?”

“it’s an important number, is it not?”

“babe,” he says, chuckling at your nonsense. “i’ll be in my thirties for a long while. don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“but i’ve got an entire cake meant for like ten people minimum sitting in my fridge.”

“well, if that’s the case,” he mutters, grinning lazily, “i’ll try my hardest to eat the whole thing by the end of the weekend if it’ll make ya feel any better.”

you turn your head to glare at him. “you’re not helping with your silly little jokes, you know.”

he snickers at that and it makes your heart bounce. “oh, i know, all right.”

“it’s just,” you start, sighing. the bridge of your nose scrunches up in annoyance when yet another heatwave washes over you and you suppress the urge to mewl. “this entire thing is so frustrating.”

“mm. tell me ‘bout it,” he says before he runs his broad palm along the column of your neck. your collarbone. the underside of your breast and down your stomach, which trembles at the feeling of the rough callouses that adorn his fingerpads.

the touch only offers more oxygen to the already raging flames that are already licking your entire body. you can’t stifle the small whimper that leaves your lips in response to even more silvery strings of your arousal smearing over the dark denim of his pants almost immediately. it causes a muscle to flutter in his cheek as he looks down and watches how wetter you’re getting by the second.

you’re entirely naked, have gotten rid of your damp, slick-coated panties because your blood feels like it’s boiling under your skin and you just couldn’t handle the heat anymore. he’s completely dressed because he didn’t think you’d actually slip into one while he’s around.

no, he didn’t dare believe it, even if his keen sense of smell did allow him to catch a whiff of a particular kind of sweetness appearing in your scent a long while ago. didn’t dare consider it, even if it did start to invoke some kind of primal, almost aggressive urge to protect what’s his in him.

but the thing is: you aren’t even his to begin with — at least not yet, that is. you refuse to bear his mark, refuse to submit, refuse to be mated even if he’s expressed the wish himself once or twice by now.

so to be entirely fair, it’s no wonder kiba feels surprised to see you acting so disheveled and pliant for him like you are right now. unlike him, you’re always so collected, looking like you have your shit together no matter the situation that’s thrown in your direction. making it look like he’s the one relying on you, instead of you relying on him, despite the roles you both possess.

maybe that’s why he’s so into you. after all, he’s always been one to love a good challenge.

and you’re just that.

furthermore, you’ve become so good at keeping your cool around him that in the last year and a half of being in a relationship together, you’ve even managed to slip out of his grasp whenever the merest hint of your heat had started to come forward. taking suppressants and disappearing off the face of the earth whenever your scent had started gaining attention from nearby alphas, you’ve successfully avoided your boyfriend until the entire thing had passed and you were back to normal, leaving him yearning all the more to see that side of you once and for all.

and whilst we’re on the topic of yearning…

he’s about to go batshit crazy because of it.

“listen to me. i don’t care about the pants, i’ll wash ‘em. and my birthday isn’t ruined,” he mutters as he nuzzles his face into the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “far from it, actually.”

silence hangs in the air for a little while before you finally whisper, “really?”

“really,” he answers in a heartbeat. it’s genuine.

he kisses your neck without warning then, making the nerves near your scent gland buzz with phantom electricity. it’s all warmth and grazing of sharp canines, and the way you arch your back so that you can push your ass further into his crotch in response makes both of your breaths shudder.

he grinds against you, and you react in the same way. drags his tongue along the sweetspot on your neck, and you reach back with your hand so that you can tug on his hair that he’s combed through a million times tonight just for you. you rock against each other like this for a long while, just dry humping, kissing, edging and listening to each other’s shaky breathing.

you’ve become outright slippery between your legs by now, it makes the rubbing of your thighs all the easier even if you want to die from shame because of how obviously horny and out of mind you’re acting during it. moaning and whining, you’re practically trembling by the time his fingers circle your puffy little clit. you feel your hole clenching around nothing in an instant; practically begging you to let him stuff it full already.

he applies steady pressure, the same kind he’s applied so many times before, but it feels different now. you’ve had sex plenty of times during the course of your relationship, even before it had been given an official date, but never during one of your heats. it changes everything. it’s an entirely new playfield that you have yet to explore.

truth be told, you’re shocked. you’ve known him for over two decades, have grown alongside him; drifting apart and reconnecting once or twice, perhaps even three times during your years spent in different high schools and universities, before you’d finally settled on remaining in each other’s lives for good.

you’re supposed to know every inch of both his body and soul by now, but the heat that’s plaguing your mind makes you see him in an entirely different light. it’s like you’re wearing rose-coloured spectacles. you’ve been in love with him before, now you’re obsessed. every breath you take makes the world spin right before your very eyes even though he has just become your world.

and that world slows down, now, all sound is drowned out by your rapid pulse that beats inside your ears as he quickens his touch on your almost painfully sensitive button of nerves. your cunt is so warm, soft, sticky. he can barely keep it together from how badly he wants to pound it already.

“k-kiba,” you stutter his name and suppress the urge to cringe at yourself. anger and overwhelming lust make your toes curl.

“look at how wet you are, pretty,” he utters softly, sounding so baffled and in awe by it at the same time that it’s almost funny. and sure enough, when he raises his hand from the apex of your thighs and holds it right in front of your face, his fingers are practically glimmering with your slick.

you’re quick to avert your eyes from the sight.

“well, you’re really fucking hard, okay?” you attempt to quip back but fail outrageously. it’s supposed to be a jab, your statement, but the high pitch that appears in your voice now exhibits pure, relentless need instead. even your hips are wiggling by their own accord and you hate yourself for allowing it, but you just can’t help it. it’s all instinct.

“fuck yeah i am. i mean, how couldn’t i be hard when you—” he grunts mid-sentence and you swear there’s a certain kind of edge to it; like a growl that thunders somewhere deep within his chest. every exhale tickles your throat as he pants — it cools the sweat that sticks to your skin in a layer so thick that it makes you shiver. “when you smell so fuckin’ good; so sweet?”

your scents meld as you writhe against each other, it makes you tip your head back and gasp from how good it is to inhale into your lungs. at this point, your brain is screaming at you to let him in, to let him do whatever he wants if it means he’ll stuff you full and knock you up by the end of it.

you can’t take it anymore.

you want, no, you need to feel the heated stretch of your alpha’s cock. need to be mounted. to be turned over then so that you can look at his face as he manhandles you into the tightest mating press known to man, and to feel his sharp teeth at long last sink into the sensitive scent gland on your neck, marking you as his before he lets you do the same to him. to let him use you as his cocksleeve the moment you become his mate, his hands gripping your hips so hard during every thrust that you’re bruising at the curves, but it just feels too good to notice the pain to accompany it.

you want your sloppy cunt squelching and gushing slick around him until he can feel his balls tighten and he cums and spills his load so deep into you that it goes straight to your goddamn womb. want to watch him keep every single drop from spilling with the help of his knot that you want him to push into you at some point, too. want his sweaty forehead pressing against your own as he fucking plugs you and sucks in deep, ragged breaths, whispering how he’s just put so many pups inside you that you’ll have to start thinking about moving house.

and afterwards, you want soft, warm kisses instead of messy, sloppy ones. you want the faintest taste of your blood on his tongue intermingling with his own iron. want him looking so big as he holds himself steady above you; your legs still wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. want him calling you his mate for the first time ever because he’s finally able to do so. and well… you want yourself whispering the same.

you want all of that.

“kiba, i need you to take care of me,” you whisper, turning around to face him. your body is aching for him by now, the scent and closeness only make your desire worsen. you’re turning light-headed with want and it makes you wrap your twitchy hands around his bicep and tug on his sleeve as you try to pull him forward so that he can top you as soon as possible. you’re clinging onto him for dear life, throwing yourself at him even if you’d said you’d never. “need you to make me yours, ‘kay? right here, right now. please.”

“yeah,” he mumbles, clearly dazed. his body moves so quick, it’s pure thrill. “yeah, of course, baby. anything you want.”

poor man, he’s been waiting for all this time just to hear you say the words.

the quiet clink of his belt buckle becoming undone causes a shiver to rush down your spine. it sends you into a frenzy.

“please. oh, god, please, please,” you repeat your pleas, choking back a sob as he pushes you onto your stomach. the weight of him that settles above you is so comforting, it only causes more hot tears to well up inside your eyes. “it hurts so bad, it feels like i’m fucking dying.”

“i’m here,” he says, and his touch feels like you’re being stroked with embers when he grips you by the hips and makes you push your ass higher into the air. he can’t control the strength he possesses anymore, the manhandling has already begun even if he’s trying so hard to remain gentle. “i’ll take care of ya. i promise, sweetheart.”

who would have thought he’d get a mate for his birthday?

#a bit late but oh well!!#in honor of the birthday boy #kiba smut #kiba x reader #naruto smut #biscuit drabbles #cw omegaverse #cw knotting #cw breeding

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heartfullofleeches · 3 months

Text

[Request] Reader caring for a sick Remmy [Dollmaker Yan Oc]

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.1k

“Remmy isn't home right now…. Please come back later.”

Could this day get any worse?... Weeks, months even, building up the courage to ask you to hang out with him. It wasn't like he asked you out on a date or anything, not yet anyway. He still needed to test the water a little longer, make sure the signals he had picked up from you weren't figments of his imagination. All that time, all those embarrassing hours spent in front of the mirror practicing what to say given any outcome - flushed down the drain in one night.

Remmy could hardly open his eyes the morning you were intended to meet. You didn't even recognize him over the phone at first. In his heightened state of delirium from the fever racking his weary mind, he hoped the same would happen as you continuously rang his doorbell - demanding in the softest voice you could manage for him to open up.

As if he could be that lucky….

“And where, pray tell, would someone hacking up a lung over the phonean hour ago be right besides the hospital? It's not that far away. I can head over right now and check.”

….

“Open this door right now, Remiel. You're not going to flake on me twice today.”

Did you have to phrase it like that? Kicking a sick person while he could barely stand was cruel - even if you did come to check up on him.

“O…okay…. Remmy is- I'm going to unlock the door, just…give me a minute to clean up my room. I have some stuff out I really don't want anyone to see…”

The muffled shuffling of plastic splices between the click of the lock as Remmy unlocks the front door.

“60.”

“Crap.”

Hobbling away from the front door, Remmy clings to the hallway walls as he makes a break for his bedroom. The straight path twists and bends as his stress levels skyrocket from the very real fear of you finding out what he had stored. There wasn't enough time for him to hide everything. His top priority were the worst offenders - items he couldn't excuse as being a result of his relatively harmless hobby. Doll clothing fashioned after clothes you'd yet to wear for the public eye. Others you never owned and probably would never wear, unless they were for a partner or to make yourself feel good. Pictures of you hung up on his walls. So much to bury in such little time.

“They can't see that…That one either. God, they'd kill me if they saw-”

“Saw what?”

A hoarse yelp claws its way out of Remmy's aching throat. Standing in his doorway, you balance two separate bags in your arms - awaiting his response. Remmy hurriedly pulls the corners of his blankets over the space beneath his bed.

“I…threw up a bit ago. Guess I'm feeling worse than I thought when we spoke over the phone.”

In the blink of an eye you're by his side. Remmy flinches as you press the back of your palm against his forehead.

“Oh, Rem….” Concern oozes from your words as you set your bags down, taking hold of his arm. You're burning up. Come on. Let's get you back in bed.”

“You don't have to go through all this for me, Y/n. Really, I'm-” His sentence falls short as you scoop him off the floor, sitting him up on his bed. Were you always this strong - or had he always been this easy to carry? In that moment, Remmy felt just like one of his dolls. His head spins at the very thought. You take the opportunity to gently ease him down against the mattress, rolling the discarded sheets up to his waist. You pick up the plastic bags, setting them on the small table in the center of his room as you rummage through them.

“Got some chicken soup from this dinner down the street. If you can't keep anything down, maybe the broth will be a good place to state. Oh!- picked up some ginger ale too. That might help with your stomach too. Cough drops, cough medicine…. Do you prefer liquid or pills?”

Remmy turns his head away from you as he coughs into his fist. “...whichever…whichever you brought is fine.”

“Well,I actually bought both, but I can just return the other on my way home later. I'll go grab you a cup real quick.”

Heading for the door, Remmy’s meek voice calls out to you - barely about a whisper. “Y/n?”

Hand on the doorframe, you gaze over your shoulder at him. “What's up? Need something else while I'm in the kitchen?”

“No…” Remmy shakes his head, the pressure of a headache hammering at his skull. “Agh… Remmy… I just wanted to thank you…for this. You really didn't have to come over…”

A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “Don't think I did this for nothing. Gotta make sure you're well enough for our date next weekend. The park is nice and all, but that's where we always go. I expect to be taken somewhere else for our first date.”

“Date?” He couldn't have heard you right. But, you said it - twice. You disappear down the hall before he can properly question you. Was this all a dream? The conjurings of his ill mind as the sickness took hold? This felt better than anything he could imagine- Your hushed voice as you reenter the room confirms it. You wiggle your arm behind his head, helping him sit back up just enough to place the cup to his lips without him choking while swallowing. A part of him wished this was a dream. One that he'd never wake up from if he had the choice. Another dream come true was waiting for him once he got better.

“Remmy?...Rem?”

Soda spills onto your hand as the weight of his head crashes upon your shoulder. Did he…. fall asleep? Just like that? You hadn't even given him his medicine yet. At least the sleep will be good for him. You should probably go put everything else you brought up to pass the time until he wakes up.

“Mmm…”

Remmy’s face scrunches in discomfort as you part from his side, lowering his head onto the pillows as you stand. Your foot touches something soft beneath his bed. You reach a hand underneath - completely forgetting about his earlier warnings as your fingers wrap around the squishy item. A doll with instantly identifying features stares back up at you as you drag it from its prison. Funny - you don't remember wearing this shirt around Remmy. You only bought it a few days ago. You planned to wear it today before he told you the bad news.

Shrugging, you raise Remmy's arm - tucking the doll against his chest. His face melts into that of peaceful bliss, body curling around the doll as his other hand strokes its face as if on auto-pilot. You press a kiss to his forehead - shutting off the lights in his room as you depart for a second time.

#remmy my oc #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere fluff #yandere drabble

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dvchvnde · 2 months

Text

Your grogginess lingers in the days after. A side effect of the painkillers, he says, but when you check—tucking the pill against your inner cheek when he leaves to go fetch something from the kitchen—it's just Tylenol. Prescription, of course. Extra strength with codeine. It shouldn't make you feel this sluggish, this out of it.

Exhaustion clings to you like a second skin. One that doesn't quite fit; tight, constricting—an artificial veneer that leaves you feeling itchy and uncomfortable where it rubs into your flesh. Sinking anchored hooks into your consciousness that tug you down into a permanent state of hypnagogia. Suspended in a constant fever dream.

Threads of fatigue weave through each eyelash until keeping them open becomes an arduous task. It's easier when you just give in—

“Need tae rest,” Johnny says when you tell him about it. About how much it worries you. “Ye’ve been injured, doe. Need tae sleep an’ heal.”

Adds: trauma, maybe, when your skepticism shows over dinner of caribou burgers, rice pilaf, and more bannock. The way he says the word—so nonchalant for all its ugliness, cruelty—nudges inside your chest, and you waver. Flickering toward the striped scar on his temple. He'd know, wouldn't he?

Still.

The unsettled feeling in the pit of your stomach lingers, mouldering inside of you. Festering. Fed by the stretch of days that bleed into each other; of waking up to the same sequence, a new routine, over and over again without any escape.

This new perspective hurts. Aches. But you adapt—change shape—until your days are spent languishing away in bed reading the books he gives to you, or listening to him putter around the house like a restive bird searching for an escape.

This cabin is too small for his wings, it seems.

But despite having a stranger impede in his space, Johnny cares for you with an intensity that makes you feel smothered. Claustrophobic. He tends to everything, rarely letting you lift a finger.

The embarrassment of that, of it all, fades at the end of the first week when he puts you in the tub, and slowly washes away the grime from your skin with a tender touch and eyes that bleed sin.

(“Ah’ll take care’a ye,” he rasps, voice thick in his throat. “Donnae worry about a thing, doe.”)

It's fine, you think. It's fine in the daytime—

Your nights, however, are awash in seafoam.

Clips, snippets; disjointed and broken. They flicker past like scenes of a movie you're unfamiliar with but never linger. Never stay long enough for you to find some form of comfort within the hazy silhouettes.

Moments of waking up on a bed with a hand on your forehead, murmuring to you. Words eliding together in the slurry of your mind, incompressible. Unknowable. A warmth against your skin. A rough hand on your jaw, thumb brushing across your cheek.

The most jarring are the ones that come late at night when you remember the phantom weight of something slung over your waist, knotted tight between your breasts. Scorching heat glued to your spine.

You think he's been crawling in bed with you. The thought alone makes you want to sob—

“Pretty wife ah go’ fer ma’self.”

Morning comes, and the worry from the night before is dissolved into an uneasy pinch in your guts. He’s normal—intense, dizzyingly so—but. Just a man. An odd one with a white, jagged grin. All teeth. Charming, you know. The sort of thing you'd fall for back home in a bar. Boyish. Simple.

But he's—

Strange.

Touches you a lot. Fingers tucked in the crease of your elbow, hand on your shoulder. Your knee. It moves higher up, planting itself on your thigh. Much too high to be appropriate. To be anything else outside of—

Well.

No.

You can't think about that. Not when your safety is tucked between those even, white teeth. With a broken ankle, negligible survival skills, and no sense of direction—

Thinking about that will crush you down to fine powder.

You bury it around an unease smile. Polite and distant and edging slightly in hysteria when he leans down, eyes burning, burning, and murmurs something under his breath about his little doe. All his.

(wife—)

It's a mistake. His accent is thick. You've misheard what he said. Don't panic. Don't scream. Don't offend him. He's nice. Nice, nice, nice. Just a nice man in the middle of nowhere who has a scar on his temple that looks like a shooting star, and madness in the back of his eyes that blooms when you catch him staring at you. Always. Like he can't bear to tear his gaze away.

He's a puppy. A dog. A good fucking boy. Stop being so crazy—

He brings you bread with fresh, homemade jam. Blueberries that grow along his property line. Juice. Water. He sits in the chair beside the bed and eats with you, tells you stories of his life back home. Scotland. Where he played football (an’ no’ tha’ shite ye call soccer) with his friends when he was home from deployment. An avid runner. He'd pace the streets of Edinburgh until his belly ached too much to continue.

Tells you of this place he'd go to after. Eat his body weight in eggs, hash.

His life feels like an improbable adventure sometimes. Deepening into dangerous territory when he admits, at your gentle prodding, that he was in the military. Secret sect. A taskforce.

(“Need’tae know,” he wags his finger at you, a toothy grin tugging on the corner of his mouth. “Or ah’d ‘ave tae kill ye.”

You convince yourself he's joking, and offer a weak chuckle. It tastes of madness in the back of your throat.)

In these moments, there are three elephants in the room with you. So smothered are you by their presence, that thoughts of loneliness dwindle down to nothing. A faded memory haunting the hollow of your throat.

The most obvious one is the mangled scar on the side of his face, slashing across his skin like a shooting scar. He touches it sometimes. Fingers pressing tentatively to the lumpy, misshapen mess of pink flesh.

It's soft most of the time. A tender pat, like he's reminding himself it's still there.

But sometimes, sometimes, he digs his fingers in so hard, they turn white. Like he's trying to chisel through flesh to scoop out everything inside. These moments are usually accompanied by bad days. Ones where he disappears outside for hours on end, only slinking back inside when the sky turns black. Haggard, knuckles pulpy mess of red.

Or when he stays inside, despondent. Solemn. He stares at the wall without blinking. It takes him a long time to respond, as if the words are stuck inside his throat. And when he does, they're stilted and hollow. Monosyllabic. A broken amalgamation of incomprehensible colloquialisms and shattered English.

When you ask what he said, he gives you a strange look. Like you're the one speaking in tongues.

“Ahm jus’—” he makes a vague motion, and says nothing else.

The pity is intense. You ache for this odd, broken man. To suffer so much—

It draws your attention to the second elephant. The one who pushes back into the corners, trying to hide. This growing thing that crackles in the air between you. Unfathomable. Intense. You're not sure what it is, or why it's here. It feels intimidating. Infinite.

It crawls into your lap in the dark, this twisted, hideous babe, seeking comfort from the person who viciously pushes it away. A dog coming back to lick the hand that hurts it because it knows no better. Bad dog. Good boy. The wires cross, spark.

What else do you do when pain and comfort come from the same hand? It whimpers this question out as it cries itself to sleep curled up on the lap of a person who refuses to touch it back. Cold comfort.

You think of baby chimps and mothers with cotton skin and metal bones.

Loneliness, you find, makes you desperate. It aches, a pulsing wound, spread over the whole of your pericardium. What do you do when the armour that is meant to protect you breaks? Cracks.

You don’t like to think about it too much because this path, this looping trail, leads you right into everything else you refuse to acknowledge. Particularly, the third elephant.

Or rather—

The fact that the other side of the bed is always warm when you wake up in the morning.

Johnny tells you he sleeps on the couch.

Sometimes, when you press your face into the pillow, you can catch the lingering scent of pine, cloudberry.

(You fold it up into a square, and shove it between the metal bars of your mother's ribs.)

#Johnny was creepier in the og version but doe was too soft #sad #i loved the throughline of Doe's “ignore it until it goes away” mentality until it bit her in the ass #straw house straw dog

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hells-wasabii · 7 months

Note

So I came down with Covid yesterday :(

I was seeing if you were open to do one with Alastor and a sick reader? I don’t do requests often, this is so new to me💕❤️

Hi! I hope you’re feeling better by the time you read this! Covid isn’t fun at ALL, but I hope you enjoy the read!

Character: Alastor

Type: Headcanons+Drabble (Alastor x sick!reader, Fluff)

Alastor as a caretaker would honestly be a sight to behold. And he’s surprisingly good at it? Then again whenever his mother would fall ill he was right there to nurse her back to health, so he’s got a little bit of experience in that department.

Speaking of his mother, he would go out of his way to cook something for you, more specifically soups and the like that she would make for him when he was sick. Something full of nutrients to help you get back on your feet. When he would get sick as a child he had his mother to rely on, and now, you would have him. You were his partner after all. He couldn’t just leave you in such a state.

He would personally oversee that you’re well taken care of. Whether it be fresh linens for your bed or water to drink should you wake up thirsty. Whatever you needed, he would have it to you just as quickly as he could. It was odd seeing him so… nurturing, but then again the radio demon did have a habit of showing you sides of him that the rest of hell would never see.

You were sick, there was no doubt about that. You had been for nearly two days now. The first day hadn’t been that bad, at least at first. You didn’t even know it was possible to get sick in hell, and yet here you were, laid up in bed recovering from one of the worst fevers you’d ever experienced. It made you wonder if hell had some sort of super-flu or something of the like

It had quickly escalated to the point that it felt as if you could feel your bones. The second day you had spent much of asleep, a fact that had been a small relief on your aching body. That is until the fitful fever dreams came along. Oddly enough you found yourself trying to solve puzzles as a means to break the fever. It never worked.

The only thing that really kept you grounded when you were conscious had been the chills that left your muscles aching. Of course, you knew that sickness couldn’t kill you in hell, especially not a sinner, but by god did it feel like you were dying.

Everything had been a haze up until a couple of hours ago.

You had already decided by that point that the only thing worse than actually being in hell was being sick as hell in hell. But you did count yourself lucky, you did have one hell of a caretaker, after all. Groggily you opened your eyes to look over at the demon reading in the plush armchair in the corner of your room. You’re not sure how exactly he knew that you were awake, but the radio demon lifted his gaze to meet yours not even moments later. You noticed his smile softened just a bit before he spoke.

“Glad to see you’re awake, darling.” The radio demon said gently, sliding a bookmark between the pages of his book and setting it down on the seat of the chair as he got up. “Give me a moment to fetch you something to eat, I imagine you’re quite famished. I’ve prepared a soup I know you’re just going to love, my mother's recipe!”

The soft lull of a radio playing music from your bedside table met your ears. You thought you could recognize that song, you were sure it was one you had heard Alastor humming before. It brought a smile to your lips. You decided that you quite liked that song, as well.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin imagine #hazbin headcanons #alastor x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor

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anne-bsd-bibliophile · 3 months

Text

Retrogression by Dazai Osamu

Translated by A. L. Raye

"He was not an old man. He was only around 25 years old, but at the same time he was, undoubtedly, an old man. For every year that a normal person lived, this old man lived it three times over." - Dazai Osamu, "Retrogression"

"And so, through Dazai’s own efforts, I hope that a day will come to pass where Dazai’s work will be instinctively understood by a great many people." - Satō Haruo, "A Respectable Yet Tormented Soul: Regarding Dazai Osamu"

"Having been metaphorically torn apart by his critics, every time he finished writing anything - anything at all - regardless of public opinion, the wounds of his humiliation would ache more and more, so keenly and so painfully, that the unfulfilled hollow in his heart spread further and deeper until finally, he died. He was deceived by the illusion of a masterpiece, enchanted by an eternal beauty, carried away by a fever cream and ultimately couldn't even save himself..." - Dazai Osamu, "Retrogression"

"I’ll stab him! I thought. What an absolute scoundrel! It didn’t take long however before I suddenly felt the hot and twisted love you bore towards me, an intense love which reminded me of Nellie from Dostoyevsky’s Humiliated and Insulted, a love that I felt deep within my heart. No. No, how could this be? I couldn’t believe it, I shook my head but that love of yours, concealed behind that cold exterior, felt Dostoyevskian in its deranged passion and made my body burn feverishly at the thought. And of course, you were completely unaware of any of this." - Dazai Osamu, "Letter to Kawabata Yasunari"

"Don’t say behind someone’s back what you can’t say to their face. I followed this principle and for that I was thrown into the looney bin." - Dazai Osamu, "Human Lost"

"Somebody put a live snake in my letterbox. I’m furious! This must be the work of someone who enjoys making fun of unpopular writers who feel the need to check their letterboxes twenty times a day. I was in a strange mood after that, and spent the rest of the day in bed." - Dazai Osamu, "Diary of My Distress"

"I’m jumping at shadows. I feel like my body has been ground up and picked clean, right down to the bone." - Dazai Osamu, "Human Lost"

"It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It really wasn’t supposed to be this way. You of all people should be clearly aware that being a writer exists within a perpetual state of ‘foolishness’." - Dazai Osamu, "Letter to Kawabata Yasunari"

"The cicada realised in the afternoon that it was going to die soon. Ah, it would have been better if I had been happier! I should have fooled around more, with nary a care in the world. Oh, do forgive me, I just wish to fall asleep among the flowers." - Dazai Osamu, "Human Lost"

"He has the kind of romantic spirit of a selfish, good-for-nothing wastrel, but more than that, he has let this seep deep down into the very marrow of his being. The uninhibited yet fragile self flows out of control, and it is the lot in life of this particular variety of man to continually contemplate himself until his self-awareness becomes intertwined with his bones." - Satō Haruo, "A Respectable Yet Tormented Soul: Regarding Dazai Osamu"

"Now, within the limits I have allowed myself, I believe I have accomplished everything I set out to do. As for the rest, I calmly entrust myself to fate." - Dazai Osamu, "January Letter to Satō Haruo from Dazai Osamu"

From the Introduction by translator A. L. Raye:

"This book aims to piece together the fractured and disorderly lifestyle of one of history's greatest romantics and pairs it with a particular moment in his life; losing the Akutagawa Prize. The ensuing drama that unfolded through private letters, newspaper articles, diaries, obituaries, and fiction created a scandal that disturbed the early Showa literati with its coarse and indecent honesty. Dazai's fiction, fiction about Dazai, speculation and reality intertwined to create an explosive event that not only changed the desired trajectory of his life but also raised issues of discrimination within prominent literary circles and the treatment of mental illness in 1930s Japan."

"If we encounter Dazai without taking into account modern ideas of disability, there is a danger we might subject him to the same myth-making mindset that surrounds Van Gough; that of a tortured genius who needed to suffer for his art - or, perhaps more accurately, for our entertainment."

"Dazai was a complicated man, a man who couldn't even decide for himself who he was."

Retrogression also includes annotations and background information on every story, letter, diary, and eulogy, adding history and insights that are difficult to find available in other English translations so far.

You can find more information and free translations on Yobanashi Café. Retrogression is available for purchase in either paperback or eBook format on Amazon.

#dazai osamu #japanese literature #retrogression #satō haruo #kawabata yasunari #a. l. raye #quotes #book recs #book recomendations

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strawheart-pirate · 11 months

Text

What they do for their sick s/o who can’t leave the ship

Sanji, Nami, Law, Penguin & Shachi, Kid, Killer

CW: SFW. This is just fluff. no drugs, no alcohol, no smokes, just soup and pampering. Comfort. They go above and beyond for you.

Scenario: After weeks at sea, you finally reached an island, but you were unable to leave the ship. You had the flu, and because it came with a cough, fever and chills, you were not allowed to leave your bed. Your s/o went on the island to get some goods, and maybe they have a surprise for you.

Read part 1 here: Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Robin, Franky, Brook

Sanji

- Since Sanji is a good listener and observer, he knew exactly what you needed. - Although he didn't want to leave your side, he had to gather a few things that would help you overcome your sickness. It took him only a short time to gather everything and he was back sooner than you expected. - He prepared a nice stew with only the best and freshest veggies and wrapped some small gifts. Not long after, he wheeled a small service cart next to your bed. It was packed with the small gifts, flowers in a vase and a steaming stew full of veggies. - “Sanji, it smells delicious.” – “I made you a very rich stew. We’ll get you back on your feet in no time with my special care.” You smiled at him. He insisted on feeding you, even though you were perfectly capable of holding the spoon with your own hands. You sulked at first but seeing him so happy made you enjoy it. - After your meal you unwrapped the little gifts. It was a few souvenirs and the one thing you’d been talking about for weeks. “Thank you, Sanji.” – “Anything for you. Now tell me. Do you want me to give you a massage, or do you want to watch a movie, or how can I help you?” - “This may sound strange, but can you read to me or tell me a story while I try to sleep?” – “Of course, just make yourself comfortable. Shall I tell you stories of the North Blue?” Sanji sat down on the bed beside you, and you made yourself comfortable and laid your head on his lap. - You fell asleep listening to Sanji’s smooth voice.

Nami

- Would boss the whole crew around to make you feel better and recover faster. Sanji would get most of her wrath, and he’d be ordered to cook you a soup and whatever you want. - Hits Luffy when he tries to steal your food away and is in a very bad mood because she wanted to enjoy the island together with you. - You would send her off to the island to give everyone a break (but make sure not to phrase it like that!). She would be gone for the whole day. - When she returns, she’ll apologize (but only to you) for being so stressed, but she’s just worried. She’d tell you about how she got nearly everything for free and show you all the new clothes and accessories. - In the end, she’d hand you a small box. She got you a little souvenir with the name of the island on it and added a voucher to it. “For later. We could take the shark submerge and visit an island of your choice...” She said with a soft smile, and you were once again amazed at how generous Nami could be. “Thank you Nami, you’re the best. I’m looking forward to our little trip.” You hugged her show your gratitude. - You spent the evening watching a movie until you fell asleep on her shoulder.

Trafalgar Law

- Your captain was very strict about the bed rest he prescribed you, so no island for you. Not even a glimpse of it. - Though he acted serious and cold towards you, his heart ached when you begged him to go. But it was for your own good that he was this persistent. - He made sure to have Bepo watch over you, knowing that you loved the bear and that he would be able to comfort you. - As he went about his duties on the island, his mind wandered off to you frequently and he thought hard about he could get you to lighten your mood and make up for not being able to visit the island. - He returned to the Polar Tang with a small bag in his hand. As he entered the room, you were fast asleep. He placed the paper bag on your nightstand and was about to leave quietly, when you shifted. - The smell of your favorite pastry woke you up and you saw Law before he could leave the room. “Law?” He slowly turned around. “I came to check on you, but you were asleep and-“ You interrupted him as you saw the paper bag on the nightstand. “Is that what I think it is?” Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you grabbed the bag and looked inside. “You went to a bakery for me?” You flashed him a smile and he looked away feeling caught. “Don’t read too much into it…” he muttered. You took his hand and smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Law.” Law only squeezed your hand a little as an answer. “I have to go to set the new course.” He mumbled and left the room. - You just giggled at how flustered he was. As you ate your favorite pastry, you smiled thinking about how Law really went out of his way to treat you.

Penguin & Shachi

- They sat on either side of your bed and cried as if you were going to die. But you weren’t, and no matter how many times you told them, that you were going to get better, they still cried. The trash was full of wet tissues, and as much as you liked them, you needed a break. - So, you sent them off to the island to do whatever they wanted. - They were determined to find you something, anything that would help you and keep you from dying. They were not that good at cooking, so they needed to help you in another way. - When they came across a beauty shop, they went in. They took notes on how to do nails, how to give proper massages and how to do face masks and compressions. They left the shop with a large bag full of creams, oils, and tools. - Once they returned, Shachi prepared the tub for you with your favorite bubble bath and your rubber ducky, and washed your hair while you soaked in the tub. Meanwhile Penguin set up the room ready for your surprise. When you came back into the room, you noticed all the candles, cosmetics, and the incense sticks. It smelled nice. - “What’s this all about?” – “We can’t help your immune system, but we can help you relax.” Penguin explained and soon you found yourself being pampered by the men. Their hands were not as skilled as the professionals with the utensils or the movements, but they managed it quite well. And you really enjoyed it. - If you ask them to do your nails, they will make a competition out of it. - You had the most precious spa day with these guys and your weakened body really enjoyed their pampering.

Eustass Kid

- Kid was angry. Not at you, but the fact that you couldn’t get out of bed because of that damn flu really pissed him off. You tried to calm him down and told him, that you were okay (you weren’t okay, but he needed to calm down, so you swallowed your own sadness), but he wouldn’t listen. - “If I can’t kill the fucking flu, I’ll at least burn this fucking island to the ground.” He said and left. You were left alone in your bed, hoping for the best. - Kid left the ship alongside Killer. “Do you know how to kill the flu?” - “Give it some time and they will be fine. Some soup or medicine can ease the symptoms.” - With that in mind, Kid wandered around with an angry expression on his face. The people who came across him hid behind walls or changed their direction, no one wanted to be the one facing his wrath. Finally, Kid found what he was looking for. - “You!” He broke down the door and scattered inside. “You're caring for a sick one, I saw it from outside.” He had an angry scowl on his face, a vein was ticking, and his voice was demanding. The woman at the stove nodded hesitantly. - “I need that soup and whatever you have, that makes a sick person feel better. Now.” He commanded with a twisted smile. The frightened woman hurried up and placed a soup, some herbs, and creams in a bag. “Well done.” He said and left for the ship. - “The soup is good.” You smiled at him and took another spoonful of it. “That’s good, otherwise I’d tear this city apart.” You saw that he was restless and tense. “Tell you what, come here.” You moved to one side of the bed, and he sat down beside you, putting an arm around you. “Can you show me your little trick?” You asked and he smirked and was about to give a cocky answer, but you had already placed some screws and small metal parts in his palm before you continued to eat your soup. So, he let it slide and activated his powers. First, he locked the door, no need for an audience, and then he stacked the parts and formed little butterflies with them. You watched in awe as he let them fly across the room. - You set down the now empty bowl. “Thank you.” You said and played with one of the little metal creatures as Kid watched the scene with a confident smile.

Killer

- He has a plan. He knows how to deal with a sick Captain Kid, and he definitely knows what you need. - Grabbing his list, he went to the island and was determined to be back soon. But then Kid caused some trouble on the island, and he had to deescalate the whole situation. He came back with everything on his list, an angry captain, and a sour mood. - He went into the kitchen and started to prepare everything for you. If anyone entered the kitchen, he would take his anger out on them, so everyone avoided going near the kitchen, no matter how hungry they were. - You woke up when a now calm Killer entered the room with a hot meal, some meds, and a bottle of water. “Hey, sorry if I woke you up.” You gave him a tired smile and a delicious smell entered your nose. “It’s okay. Did you cook?” – “Yeah, hope it helps you get better.” You sat up and he placed the food on your lap. It tasted good and you hummed appreciatively. “Thank you. It’s delicious.” – “I’m glad you like it. I also bought some meds, just in case.” He said placing the meds on your nightstand. - After the meal, Killer sat down beside you and you curled up against him. You mumbled a small 'thank you' and quickly fell asleep while Killer watched over you.

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©Strawheart-pirate. Please do not copy / modify / translate / repost my writing, banners or art on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece x you #gn reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #nami x reader #cat burglar nami #law x reader #trafalgar law #kid x reader #eustass kid #killer x reader #killer op #penguin x reader x shachi #penguin one piece #shachi one piece #strawheart-pirate.writing

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fcthots · 9 months

Note

Hello!

I'm new to all this, I just downloaded tumblr a week ago, but I spent my entire day reading most of your posts!

I absolutely adore your personification of Jason, and was thinking, could you maybe write a little teeth rotting fluff fic about reader having a migrane and Jason just caring for them.

I'm projecting here because I've been sick for a week and I'm just thinking of big Jason Todd walking up to me, putting his hands on my neck and telling me I have a fever, then giving me tea and cuddling with me because he's like a Teddy bear and I need him 🫠

(Also, could I maybe get an emoji)

Thx so much! You're so talented with writing!!!!

I know this is like months late but i dub thee 🪅 bc i thinks its cool!! Anyway, thank you for the love 🥰

You fell asleep early the night before. You mostly ignored Jason's looks of concern and "are you sure you're ok?"s. You were fine. Just tired.

Until you woke up.

You don't immediately open your eyes. Your eyes and throat somewhat burned. Unusual. And now that you think about it, the rest of your body feels like it's freezing. Your head feels like it's tumbling stones in a washing machine and that doesn't even make sense, but you want to cry.

You try to open your eyes but the light from the window forces you to immediately close them. You're so cold, but your arms are too heavy to move. Your headache is pounding and you're freezing and you're whole body aches and a million other things. Thinking about it doesn't help and you can't help the pitiful sound that escapes you. It sounds more like a cry than anything else. You feel something move and the bed next to you and it makes you dizzy. For a moment, you can't register anything other than your discomfort.

The next thing you know, Jason is leaning over you. His hand rubs gentle circles over the small of your back.

"Shh. You're ok. You're alright."

You don't know how you forgot that Jason was here. Your head is just so fuzzy and everything hurts. Another whine escapes and you almost shed a tear at the nausea.

His other hand comes up to sweep your hair to the side. He presses his lips to your forehead on a chaste kiss. "Sugar, you're burning up." His warmth leaves you as you hear him move around the apartment. He can't have been gone for more than a minute, but you swear the noise the opening and closing of the cabinets lasts for hours.

You feel his lovely warmth back at your side soon enough. A hand slips underneath you and you think he's just going to keep rubbing your back, but the other hand goes to your waist and together they push you up and you think you might die. "Sit up for me. C'mon. There you go." His hands steal their warmth back and you'd curse them if you could, but in the next second a pill is being pressed to your lips. "Take this for me." You don't even have it in you to think of protesting. You take the pill in your mouth and then he presses a cool bottle to your lips. "We have to wash it down." You try to bring your hand up to help him but you're too weak to hold the drink up alone. "I gotcha. There you go." He takes the drink back and you mourn its absence, but that doesn't last long before his arms draw you close to his body. Your head rests against his stomach as he asks "are you cold?"

You make a sound that is supposed to be affirmative and he curses.

"Shit. I told you you were getting sick." Its aimed more at himself than you and even if you did want to object, you couldn't get the words out. "Do you think you could keep down something down?" You shake your head no against his stomach. "Ok. Can I make you something just in case?"

"Don' leave."

He sighs and runs his fingers through your hair.

#saph’s love letters #jason todd #jason todd x reader #saph’s thots #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x you #jason todd x reader fluff #red hood x reader fluff #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff #fluff #🪅 anon

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 years

Text

Steve very rarely gets sick. He prides himself on it.

But when Eddie spent three days in a row in bed with a fever, puking every time he got up, and coughing everywhere he could reach, Steve had no choice but to stay and take care of him. Which meant he spent three days in direct contact with whatever virus decided to leave Eddie bedridden.

Halfway through his shift at Family Video, he turned to Robin and said he was going to pass out.

She didn’t believe him, laughed it off like he was being dramatic. “You’ve been hanging around Eddie too much lately.”

So when he passed out five seconds later, she panicked. He opened his eyes to her frantically trying to move him onto his side.

“Robs, ‘s not a seizure.”

“Right, but what if you puke?”

“I’m just dehydrated.”

He wasn’t just dehydrated.

He was dehydrated and feverish and exhausted.

He was sick.

Robin called Eddie to come pick him up, rambling nervously over the phone about his symptoms. Steve couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he knew Eddie was probably laughing at the situation.

“He’ll be here to get you in 10 minutes. Can you please not pass out again because I don’t think I can handle it.”

“Sure, I’ll just tell my brain to hold off until Eddie’s here.”

“Thanks.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he settled on the floor behind the counter. Robin wouldn’t let him stand up again in case he fell and hit his head, which was actually probably a smart move.

When Eddie arrived, he took one look at Steve on the floor and sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

“I warned you, Stevie! I said ‘you’re gonna get sick, you shouldn’t stay’ and what did you do? Mommed yourself right into the flu.”

Steve didn’t dignify that with an answer, mostly because it would take too much energy to give one. He stood on shaking legs and made his way to the door.

He felt so weak, he barely registered when his knees started to buckle. Strong arms wrapped around him from behind and held him up.

“Jesus, Steve. Were you feeling this bad when you left home?”

Steve shook his head and let out an embarrassing whine. His head was throbbing, a dull ache set in shortly after he got to work, and only got worse after he passed out.

“Can you make it to the van or do you need me to carry you?”

“I can make it, just…help?”

Eddie kept an arm wrapped around Steve’s waist, supporting most of his weight as they walked to his van. He opened the passenger side door and helped Steve get seated and as comfortable as possible.

Steve let out another small whine when he realized he would have to move to buckle himself in.

“What’s wrong?”

Eddie was so nice. Maybe he could buckle him.

“Belt?”

Eddie wordlessly reached for the belt and buckled Steve in, his hair brushing along Steve’s cheek and chest as he pulled away.

Steve repressed another whine, though for a different reason, when Eddie’s hand brushed against his thigh.

His thighs were sensitive, even in jeans. Sue him.

Steve nodded off during the drive to his house, barely aware of Eddie singing along to something on the radio.

When they arrived, Eddie unbuckled Steve’s seatbelt and helped him out of the van. He was saying something to Steve, but his brain wasn’t processing any of it.

He could barely keep his eyes open while Eddie got him upstairs and into bed.

He could feel Eddie’s rough hands gently pulling off his jeans and shirt, but couldn’t offer much help.

Passing out really did a number on him.

“Yeah, I think it did.”

Oh. Steve said that out loud. Interesting.

“You don’t do anything halfway, do you? Get sick and it’s like your brain’s melted out your ears.”

Steve let out a giggle before relaxing against his pillow.

Eddie started to tuck him in, pulling his covers up to his chin and brushing a piece of hair away from his face.

“I’m gonna get you some water. You hungry?”

Steve felt his stomach turn at just the thought of food touching his mouth. He used all of his remaining energy to shake his head.

“Be right back, Stevie.”

**********

When Steve opened his eyes again, it was too dark to even recognize his own bed. It’s been so long since he slept with no light, he felt disoriented and scared that the power had gone out.

Just as he was struggling to sit up, he heard a grumble from the floor followed by a groan.

“It’s okay, Stevie. I’ll get the light.”

Before Steve could process who the voice belonged to, his bedside lamp turned on and covered him in a golden glow.

Eddie.

The room started spinning around him before he could say anything. He closed his eyes to avoid the disorientation, but it only made it worse.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart. I’ve got ya.”

And he did. Eddie’s arms were wrapping around Steve and pulling him against his chest, solidifying his presence in one place despite everything else in the room moving.

Steve melted into Eddie, breathing in the faint leather and smoke smell that never failed to make him feel safe.

“You just have no filter when you’re sick, huh?”

Eddie laughed softly, brushing his lips against the top of Steve’s head.

Steve didn’t give a response, not able to actually produce words when he wants to, apparently.

“You’re burning up. I got some Tylenol for you while you slept. You should take some now and try to rest.”

“Stay?”

Eddie didn’t respond, just moved to grab the water from the table and hand it to Steve. He watched as he took the Tylenol, telling him he did a good job before putting the water back on the table.

Just as Steve settled against Eddie’s chest again, he was moved away by strong hands.

The whimper he let out stopped Eddie in his tracks.

“Are you in pain? Robin said your migraines get so bad sometimes you can’t move. Is that happening?”

Steve shook his head, immediately regretting doing so when the room started spinning again.

“Stay.”

It only took a moment for Eddie to adjust them both so they could lay down together. Steve wasted no time in curling into Eddie’s side, and Eddie’s hand found it’s way to Steve’s hair.

His fingers gently pulled through some of the tangles, smiling to himself when Steve couldn’t hold back a shiver.

“Feel okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Can’t believe you let me get you sick.”

“‘S worth it.”

“You’re ridiculous. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

Eddie only hesitated a moment before dropping a kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“Promise.”

They hadn’t acknowledged the way Steve had acted when taking care of Eddie. They hadn’t talked about the cuddling and small kisses to his hair or cheek or nose. They hadn’t even been around each other since Eddie was feeling better.

But this felt like a turning point - no more ignoring the way they felt about each other. If Eddie was reading things right, Steve wasn’t just like this because he was sick and slightly delusional.

They’d have a talk when he was better, but for now, Eddie let Steve suction himself to his side and take the comfort he needed.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #ao3fic #shout at me about steddie #my fic #tumblr drabbles #sick fic #I actually started writing this one before I did the Eddie sick one with no intention of doing an Eddie one #but then I ended up liking the Eddie one more so that’s what got posted #I still don’t like this one nearly as much #but y’all are hoes for sick fic like me so come get y’all juice

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lukesvangelista · 6 days

Text

𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

*gif by @makarhughes

in which matt’s helped y/n through her chronic illness for years, but one night, it all becomes too much.

warnings; chronic illness (lupus), hospitals + hospitalization, worried matt rempe

When you were 14, you sat in the sterile doctor's office, your hands trembling slightly as you waited for test results. You had been feeling off for months—fatigue, joint pain, strange rashes—and you knew something was wrong, but hearing the words "You have lupus" felt like the ground was pulled from beneath you. Your chest tightened as the doctor explained the diagnosis, your mind racing with questions you didn’t know how to ask. All you could think about was how this would affect your life, your schooling, and the people you loved. You felt numb, unable to process it all at once.

When you were 19, you had met Matt during an off-season charity event. You were volunteering at an animal shelter, and hadn’t expected much from the night, just another hockey fundraiser with a few familiar, but many unfamiliar faces. But when you were introduced to Matt, something clicked. He was easygoing, with a quiet charm that drew you in right away. You guys spent the evening talking, first about hockey, then about everything else. By the end of the night, you were laughing like old friends. You hadn't thought much of it at first, but as time went on, your paths kept crossing, and it became clear that meeting Matt wasn’t just a coincidence—it was the start of something that changed your life.

Telling Matt about your chronic illness had been one of the hardest things you ever did. You remembered the night clearly, sitting across from him with your hands clenched tightly in your lap. Your heart pounded as you struggled to find the right words, terrified of how he might react, “I have lupus.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid of seeing pity or disappointment in his eyes. But instead of pulling away, Matt gently reached for your hand, his quiet reassurance easing some of the weight you’d been carrying alone for so long.

Ever since then, he’d been the absolute sweetest boyfriend — always taking care of you when things got rough, and always reassuring you about your strength and resilience. It had even gotten to the point where Matt had offered to take games and practices off, but you always told him no. Despite his reluctance, he always listened to you.

While you had been feeling okay over the past couple of weeks, today was one of those days.

It had been one of those mornings where you knew, as soon as you opened your eyes, that it was going to be a rough day. Your body ached in ways that made it hard to move, and a low fever had settled in overnight, leaving you feeling drained. You groaned softly, rolling over and catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror— the familiar butterfly-shaped rash had returned, bright across your cheeks.

Matt wasn’t in bed next to you. You cursed to yourself as you realized the time, noting that he was at morning practice. You groaned, tears welling up in your eyes at the pain you were in. You tried to fight through it and get out of bed, but the pain was too much. You felt helpless. With the strength you did have, you reached out to grab your phone off of the nightstand next to you, sending a quick text to Matt.

one of those days. will you be home soon?

You waited anxiously for Matt’s reply, but didn’t have to wait long.

leaving the arena now. be home soon, my love.

On the other end of the phone, Matt could sense something was wrong. Even when you were dealing with a flare up, you were as independent as could be. You hated asking for help, because it made you feel like you were a burden. The fact that you texted him was a miracle in itself.

When he got home, he set his gear down in the garage and made his way up the stairs to your room as quickly as he could. Within minutes, he was sitting beside you on the bed, concern etched on his face. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently, brushing a hand across your forehead to check for a fever. You were burning up.

“Better now that you’re here,” you joked, cracking a small smile, but Matt could see right through it. He smiled at you sadly, climbing into bed next to you. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes. Whenever you went through a flare up, you felt as though you could sleep for days on end.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he rolled his eyes, settling down under the blankets as you gently placed your head on his shoulder, “close your eyes, love, and just rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

So you did.

Matt stayed close all day, making sure you stayed hydrated when you woke up, adjusting the pillows when you needed more comfort, and even gently applying cool compresses to your face when the heat of your fever became unbearable. Every time you tried to apologize or downplay your discomfort, he stopped you with a quiet, reassuring smile, “I’ve got you,” he’d say, his voice calm and steady.

By the time bedtime came around, you were still achy, but the fever had gone down a little, and the rash had begun to fade. Matt had barely left your side, keeping the TV on low and talking to you softly, filling the silence with easy conversation to distract you from the pain. As the two of you lay in bed that night, Matt’s arm draped protectively over you, and you felt a deep sense of comfort. You hated feeling weak, but with Matt, it never felt like you had to fight alone.

As you fluttered off to sleep, Matt pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. He loved it when you slept — you were so extremely beautiful, and he knew that sleeping took the pain away for a brief moment of time. At the same time, however, he couldn’t help but worry. It had been a long time since he’d seen a flare up this bad, but you had gotten through it. That gave him just enough solace to fall asleep next to you after hours of worrying as you slept, his arm still draped gently over your body.

Within minutes of his eyes closing, Matt stirred in his sleep, feeling you shift beside him. He was exhausted, having stayed by your side all day, but he’d never leave you when you were having such a rough time with your illness. He had only just fallen asleep when he felt a light tug on his arm.

“Matt…” your voice was faint, barely a whisper in the dark room, but there was an unmistakable tremor in it that shot adrenaline through him.

He blinked his eyes open and sat up quickly, heart already pounding. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, even though dread immediately settled in his chest.

You looked at him, your face pale and clammy, beads of sweat dotting your forehead. You swallowed hard, struggling to speak. “I… I don’t feel right. It’s never been this bad before. I think… I think I should go to the hospital.”

Matt’s stomach dropped. The words hit him like a punch, and suddenly, he was wide awake, fear gnawing at him. He kept his face calm, though—he had to. If you saw how scared he was, it would only make you panic.

“Okay,” he said gently, his voice even though his mind was racing. “Let’s get you there. Can you sit up?”

You nodded weakly, but as you tried to move, you winced in pain, and Matt immediately reached over, helping you. His hands were steady, though inside, his chest felt like it was caving in. You were never the type to admit that you needed help, and hearing you say that you wanted to go to the hospital made his heart twist in his chest.

Once you were sitting up, Matt quickly grabbed a sweatshirt for you, carefully sliding it over your shoulders before easing your legs over the side of the bed. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his hands never leaving you as he helped you stand.

Every second felt like it stretched on forever. In his mind, he was already imagining the worst—what if something was really wrong? What if you were in more pain than you let on? But outwardly, he stayed calm, focusing on the next step. He needed to get you to the hospital, and everything else could wait.

Once the two of you were in the car, Matt kept glancing over at you, his hand gripping the wheel tighter than necessary. “You’re doing great,” he said softly, hoping the words would bring you some comfort, though the knot in his stomach tightened every time you shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“It hurts,” you cried out, your voice shaky as you gripped your stomach and leaned forward to rest your head on the dashboard. Matt flinched at the pain in your voice, tears gathering in his eyes, but he couldn’t let them spill.

“I know, baby, I know. We’re almost there, just hold on.”

The drive felt like it took forever, every red light adding another layer to Matt’s mounting anxiety. But he didn’t rush. The last thing you needed was a reckless driver on top of everything else.

When you finally arrived at the hospital, Matt helped you out of the car, wrapping his arm securely around your waist as you guys made your way inside. The bright lights and sterile smell of the hospital hit him hard, but he kept his focus on you, his heart aching at how much pain you seemed to be in.

As Matt checked in, you leaned heavily against him, your head resting on his shoulder. You hadn’t said much since the car ride, and Matt’s worry spiked even higher.

The nurse took both of you to a room, and once you were settled on the hospital bed, Matt pulled a chair close, refusing to leave your side. The doctors came in, asking you questions. Although you were obviously in tremendous pain, the doctors wouldn’t let up and get you help. But all Matt could do was watch, his hands clenched together in his lap, his mind screaming for answers.

When the doctors left to run tests, Matt finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He took your hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re gonna be okay, alright? They’ll figure out what’s going on.”

You gave him a small, tired nod, your eyes glassy from pain and exhaustion. “Thanks for staying calm,” you whispered, your voice weak but filled with gratitude.

Matt forced a smile, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Anything for you.” But inside, his heart was racing, every second dragging on painfully as he waited for some kind of news. He kept stroking your hand, praying silently that everything would be okay, all while forcing his expression to stay calm.

For your sake, he would hold it together. But the second you were out of this hospital, he’d let all his fear and worry flood out—just not yet. Not until you were okay.

Within minutes, you had passed out from exhaustion. The doctors moved quickly around you. Matt stood by your side, holding your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in an attempt to soothe both you and himself. Although you were asleep, he could feel the tension in your grip, the way you were holding on to him like he was your anchor in a storm.

“I’m right here,” he whispered softly, leaning closer to you. “You’re going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

But even as he said it, the fear gnawed at him. What if you weren’t okay? What if this time was worse than before?

The doctors were speaking in low tones, their words just out of reach, and Matt’s stomach churned as he tried to make sense of it all. He wanted to demand answers, to make them tell him what was going on, but he couldn’t leave you. He needed to stay with you, to keep you calm, even as his own fear threatened to overwhelm him.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor approached, her expression serious but not alarming. Matt held his breath.

“We’re going to admit Y/N for observation,” the doctor explained. “Her symptoms are concerning, but we’re taking all the necessary steps to stabilize her. We’ll get her comfortable and monitor her closely.”

Matt nodded, swallowing hard. “Is she going to be okay?”

The doctor offered a small, reassuring smile. “We’re doing everything we can. She’s in good hands, Mr. Rempe.”

Matt thanked her, but his focus was already back on you. You were still holding his hand, your grip weak but steady, your eyes still closed as they wheeled you toward a permanent room. His chest tightened again, but he forced himself to stay composed, even though he was falling apart inside.

Once you were in the room, Matt sat down beside your bed, his hand still clutching yours. The room was quiet, the beeping of machines the only sound breaking the silence. Your breathing had calmed slightly, but you looked so pale, so fragile, that it nearly broke him.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead on your joined hands, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here. You’re going to get through this, okay? You’re stronger than this. I know you are.”

And even though he was terrified, even though the fear still clawed at him, Matt knew he’d stay with you through it all. No matter how scared he was, no matter how hard it got, he wouldn’t leave your side.

You were everything to him, and he’d do whatever it took to make sure you were okay. Even if that meant staying up all night, fighting sleep when his eyes would flutter shut. The clock struck 1:00, 2:00, 3:00, 4:00, 5:00, and so on, but the boy refused to sleep, his tired eyes glancing over to you in concern more times than he could count. Time moved slowly, but that didn’t matter to Matt.

The next morning, around 9:00, sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of the hospital room, casting a soft glow across the bed. You blinked awake slowly, the familiar beeping of machines and the sterile hospital scent filling your senses. As you adjusted to the light, your eyes immediately found Matt.

He was still in the same chair beside your bed, his posture tense but upright. His hand was still holding yours, his grip firm even though he looked utterly exhausted. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and it was clear he hadn’t slept at all. His face was slightly scruffy, and his hair was messy from running his hands through it all night, but his gaze was focused entirely on you, concern etched deeply into his features.

“Matt?” your voice came out raspy, your throat dry from a night of fitful sleep. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, trying to pull his attention back from wherever his thoughts had drifted.

His eyes snapped to yours, relief flooding his expression as soon as he saw you were awake. He immediately leaned forward, his tired features softening. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice thick with fatigue. “You’re awake.”

You nodded slowly, your body still heavy with exhaustion, but you could already feel the difference. You felt better—weak, but a little better, “You stayed up all night?” you asked softly, your heart aching at the sight of him so worn out, knowing he had been up watching over you.

Matt gave you a tired smile, but his eyes were filled with love and relief. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice gentle, “I didn’t want to sleep in case you needed me.”

You frowned, your heart swelling with love for him, but also a hint of guilt creeping in. “Matt, you didn’t have to do that. You need rest too.”

He shook his head quickly, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. “I’m fine. I wanted to be here. The only thing that matters is you.”

The emotion in his voice made your chest tighten, and you felt tears prick your eyes as you looked at him. You knew he was tired, that he had been running on pure adrenaline and fear since the two of you had arrived at the hospital, but there he was, still sitting by your side, refusing to leave.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

Matt leaned forward, his free hand brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You won’t ever have to find out,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I’m always going to be here for you. No matter how hard things get.”

Your throat tightened, and you couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in your eyes. “I hate that you’re worrying so much,” you whispered. “I hate that you have to deal with this because of me.”

Matt’s expression softened, and he shifted in his chair, leaning in closer to you. “You’re not a burden, Y/N. Not even close. I’d do this a thousand times over if it meant being here for you. You’re everything to me.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart swell, and you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You let them fall silently, grateful for his unwavering support, his love that never faltered even when things got tough. You squeezed his hand tightly, wanting him to know how much he meant to you, how much his presence had kept you grounded through everything.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the words filled with all the emotion you couldn’t fully express.

Matt’s face softened even more, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too,” he murmured, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment before he pulled back to meet your eyes. “More than anything.”

You stayed like that for a while, the room filled with a quiet peace as you held onto each other. You could feel the weight of everything—your illness, the hospital, the fear—start to lift, replaced by the warmth and comfort of Matt’s love. He had been your rock through it all, never wavering, never leaving your side.

“You should rest now,” you whispered softly, your hand still holding onto his. “You’ve done so much for me. Let me take care of you for a little bit.”

Matt chuckled softly, the sound warm and soothing despite his exhaustion. “Maybe in a little while,” he said with a tired smile. “But right now, I just want to be with you.”

You smiled up at him, your heart full. “You’re the best,” you whispered, your voice filled with affection.

Matt gave you a soft smile, his eyes filled with nothing but love. “Yeah,” he said quietly, brushing a thumb gently over her knuckles, “I know.”

You chuckled softly, an eye roll quickly following. But as the morning light filled the room, the two of you stayed there, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence, knowing that together, you could face whatever came next.

That was until you checked the time, however. You groaned, and Matt’s head shot up, his brows furrowing as he looked over at you to figure out what was wrong, “Matthew Rempe! What happened to morning practice?”

And that was the first time he had left your side.

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drakulana · 7 months

Text

when you're sick // law x gn! reader drabble

⚝ summary: you get sick and law takes care of you, gn! reader

⚝ content: sick reader, no pronouns, no y/n, law takes care of you, very short and sweet!

⚝ wc: 855

⚝ a/n: i've been sick so this is just something a little fun i wrote. i hope you enjoy!!

✩࿐

you never really took getting sick seriously. it didn’t happen often, and when it did, it usually passed within a couple days. it started out as the sniffles. you thought it was just a cold, so you went and got some cold medicine from the infirmary. it wasn’t something you thought was worth telling your captain. you made it through the day completing all your tasks without any problem, thankful to fall into bed that night. the next morning, you woke up with a raging headache. it was undoubtedly from all the sinus pressure that had set in while you were asleep. you were hoping to sleep off the sickness, but instead it presented a new symptom. the headache. still, you didn’t tell your captain. there was no reason to bother him about a headache when you could just go into the infirmary and get some more medicine. so that’s what you did. you took the same cold medicine as yesterday, and took some with you for later on in the day. as the day went on, you could feel your symptoms growing worse. the stuffy nose turned into constant sneezing. the drainage turned into a bit of a nasty cough, and the sinus pressure turned into puffy watery eyes. for a second, going to see your captain crossed your mind, but it was so late now. so you went to bed, hoping to sleep off whatever ailment you had caught, once again.

you woke up in a cold sweat. your bedsheets and blankets stuck to you, and chills had overtaken your body. your body ached. the dim light pouring in from under the door hurt to even look at. your head felt like it had been split open. the sounds of your crewmates chattering and walking up and down the corridors getting ready to work was amplified, and was not aiding your headache in the slightest. it was time to get up. it was time to go to work, but you seemed to be almost bed ridden. you cursed yourself. you knew as soon as your captain noticed you weren't present he would come looking for you. he was not going to be happy that you failed to tell him that you were sick. until then, you decided that you were going to get some rest. you closed your eyes, and let the darkness consume you.

you spent the next hour in and out of sleep. no matter what position you were in, everything hurt. you could hear footsteps approaching your room. a knock sounded on the metal door, making you groan a weak come in, at whoever was at the door. you knew who was at the door before they even knocked. it was law.

the harsh white light from the hallway spilled into your room, making you shield your eyes. the light was blinding, and just as you thought it couldn't get worse, law flicked on the light switch in the room. "please turn the light off," you croaked out at your captain to which he complied, mumbling a soft apology. he walked over to your bed, looking down at your sick figure. "why didn't you tell me you were sick?" he tutted, reaching down to feel your forehead. he sucked in a breath at the feeling of your burning skin. his hands were cold, and you leaned into the soothing touch. "you have a fever," he stated the obvious. he removed his hand from your head and let out a sigh before turning on his heel and leaving, wordlessly. shutting the door behind him, the darkness of the room brought relief to the pounding in your head. however, it didn't last long. a few minutes later your captain was back. he had a wet washcloth in hand, a thermometer, some medicine, and some water in hand. he pulled up a chair next to your bed, laying the cool washcloth across your head. the coolness soothed the pounding just enough for you to be able to relax a bit. "open," law commanded you, and you complied, opening your mouth. "under your tongue," he commanded once again, as he put the thermometer in your mouth. you sat there with the thermometer in your mouth for a minute before law checked it, "102 degrees. you really should have come and gotten me whenever you first started feeling sick. we could have avoided this," he lectured. a quiet, i'm sorry, left your raw throat. law looked down at you, pitifully. "drink this water, and take these," law opened the water bottle, and poured two pills into his palm. he helped you sit up, his cool hands resting on your back. his touch almost relieved the aching in your back, rubbing light circles as you took the medicine. law helped you lay back down, fixing the blankets around you. "now rest," he told you as he reached over to the bookshelf across from the bed and grabbed a book, "i'll be here if you need anything," he told you. having no energy to protest, you closed your eyes and let the black consume your aching body.

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@drakulana 2024 // i do not give permission to copy, translate, or repost, any of my content without my consent

Taglist: @shuujin , @pinksaiyans , @buttmishaaaa, @tokaio, @augustanna, @sukilovesyou, @mschoiyuki, @songinabottle , @starlightanyaaa, @elen-alambil, @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction

#trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x you #law x gn!reader #trafalgar law fan fic #one piece fan fiction #one piece x reader

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suga-kookiemonster · 1 year

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satisfy 06

summary⇢ “listen,” taehyung says, eyes wide and eager as he smiles at you. “i figure we can just help each other out. i scratch your back, you scratch mine.” but when you find yourself suddenly in need of a massive favor, exactly how much scratching are you willing to do? pairing⇢ seokjin/reader, namjoon/reader, taehyung/reader, …..jimin/reader word count⇢ 4.8k genre⇢ smut | escort!au | ceo!au (kinda) warnings⇢ none, really. just a few suggestive memories and oc having a crisis 👀 a/n⇢ and now, my dear friends, we finally make it to the epilogue! 🥹 thank you to everyone who has stuck with this fic over the years, and i'm extra grateful to everyone who has dropped in my inbox at any point to scream their feelings about it to me--as well as everyone who has enjoyed it enough to reblog and share! 💜💜 you guys are the ones who really keep me coming back to share my writing on this hellsite, and i truly, truly appreciate you for helping keep fandom fun and alive. i hope you've enjoyed this ride as much as i have enjoyed taking you on it! 🥰😈 mood for this chapter is this song~ thanks again, everyone! 💜

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Just as they were scheduled to, your employers jetted off overseas, leaving you to your own devices for the next three weeks. You weren’t going to lie—it felt bizarre for your calendar to be so open after months of near bursting due to constant activity. But honestly? It was truly refreshing to suddenly have so much downtime. And after your last Kim encounter, you definitely felt your break was well-deserved.

So, you used the sudden breathing room to catch up on other parts of your life that had been suffering. The next few days were spent burrowed beneath the covers and gloriously unconscious, your truly exhausted body ensuring sleep to be your first priority. Initiating the wildest sexual encounter you had ever had—and probably would ever have—on a Thursday meant that you luckily only had to miss one lecture, and you happily did so, knowing the slides would be online for you to look over later. And though you weren’t asleep the entire weekend, even when you were awake, you didn’t part with the comfort of your bed for long—eating takeout in it and watching true crime documentaries in it and actively ignoring the way your skin tingled when your mind strayed to the other activities you had done in it not too long prior.

(And if you were being honest, it was a little hard to not linger on what you had done. On what you so easily allowed the Kims to do.)

When you did allow yourself to linger on it, it almost felt like a fever dream. Some abstract, depraved fantasy that your overactive mind had cooked up. But the ache in your muscles, the tenderness of your pussy—these were tangible proof that it had all been real. That the flashes of hot tongues and gasping breaths and shivering pleasure that kept creeping back, no matter how you tried to distract yourself, were memories, not figments of your imagination. You knew you should probably feel some sort of shame over it, but honestly? Other than astonishment that this was what your life had become, other than the expected fatigue—

You only felt satisfied.

Satisfied that your own needs had been spectacularly met, of course, but also with the knowledge that your employers were even more satiated than you, and that you had done that. You couldn’t help but glow with a sense of pride when your doorbell rang one afternoon and you were handed a gorgeous flower arrangement, the corresponding card detailing that the unexpected, expensive gift was from Kim Seokjin. Months ago, you probably would have felt mortified to receive them—especially with the intimate knowledge of what exactly he was thanking you for—but you had earned those flowers, dammit! Earned that, as well as the absurd amount of money Namjoon unceremoniously wired you in between the texts he sent you every few days to check on you.

You always gave your all to whatever you set out to do, and this was no different. You were a hard worker, period. No one could fault you for being pleased with the successful results of your efforts.

So yes, you spent those next few days relaxing and recuperating and feeling rewarded. And when you finally felt enough like a human to leave your nest of pillows and blankets, you used your newfound freedom from distractions to catch up on other parts of your life you had been inadvertently ignoring—the first being your schoolwork, and the second, Jimin.

You did a double-take when your text thread showed that the last time you had messaged him had been a week and a half ago, unbelieving. Though busy, the two of you never went that long without at least checking in, and for him to not reach out either? You couldn’t help but worry that maybe he had forgotten about you. Found someone much more interesting, someone prettier and much more available to be showered with his attention than you.

But luckily, your slow spiraling was immediately halted when the timid Hey you sent him resulted in his bubbly, smiley face-filled reply barely a second later.

And so now, there you were, meeting him in person for the first time in over a month.

“Sorry I’m late,” you told him as you approached the table, slightly out of breath from your hustle there. “Traffic was crazy and the Uber driver seemed afraid of driving, or something? Like, this probably isn’t the job for you if driving in the city makes you that nervous.” Because yes, when Jimin asked if you could meet him for dinner, you were surprised when he chose a spot downtown. And you were even more surprised when you finally arrived and realized that said restaurant was apparently an upscale hotspot, especially considering the meals you usually shared together consisted of nothing fancier than takeout or something you could grab from the convenience store.

He immediately stood up to wrap you in his arms, giving you a comforting squeeze that reflexively had you melting into the warmth of him before he let go. God, he smelled good. “Glad you made it in one piece,” came his amused reply, eyes twinkling as he reached over and politely pulled your chair out for you.

You did your best to tamp down the familiar delighted butterflies that always sprung up within you when you were near him. There was something more pressing that needed to be addressed. “Jimin,” you hissed out the corner of your mouth, warily looking around. “You didn’t tell me this restaurant was so nice! I would’ve dressed up more.” Because as it was, your simple cocktail dress wasn’t really cutting it. The tables had cloth tablecloths that no doubt were removed and washed between each seating. There were multiple chandeliers sparkling from the ceiling, for fuck’s sake! Jimin had told you to wear something more on the nicer side, but he never told you this nice, and you could tell immediately that you were underdressed. You had been so excited to see him again that you just got in the car without even bothering to google the place first.

Jimin waved a dismissive hand, visibly unbothered as he retook his own seat. For his part, he had actually taken the time to throw on a rather smart blazer over his dress shirt and slacks, his hair carefully styled and slicked back. “You look beautiful, as you always do.”

Your eyes shifted to the table, a shy but pleased smile inching across your lips. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for meeting me. I was worried you’d forgotten about me.”

You couldn’t help the incredulous snort that escaped you. “Me forget about you? No, of course not, Jiminie. I’m sorry for dropping off the face of the earth—I’ve just been so busy—”

Jimin’s raised hand halted your rambling, the gentle crinkle of his eyes calming your frazzled nerves. “Don’t worry,” he smiled. “I totally get it—I was just teasing. I could tell you had a lot going on, and so I just didn’t want to bother you. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Didn’t you, though? Would he feel the same way if he knew just what had been taking up all your time? You reflexively swallowed, sifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Yeah, school has been running me ragged.” And it’s not a lie. Just not the full truth.

“No kidding. I think I got seven hours of sleep total last week, so like I said, I totally get it.” Before it even registered that he was reaching for you, his hand was already enveloping yours, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your palm. “I’m just happy we have the chance to get together now. I missed you.”

You felt yourself immediately soften into putty at his admission. “I’ve missed you too, Jimin,” came your soft reply. Dazedly, you tried your best not to visibly show how much his unexpected touch was making your heartbeat skyrocket, but from the pleased curl of his lips, you weren’t entirely sure you were successful.

It didn’t matter, because just as easily as he had reached into your space, he was now letting go, pulling his appendage back to his side of the table to pick up his menu.

As if waiting for a lull in your conversation, the waiter chose that moment to approach your table. “Welcome to Serendipity. Have the two of you dined with us before?”

“I haven’t,” Jimin replied, expectantly looking your way for your response and finding you scrabbling for your menu instead.

“Me neither,” you squeaked, flustered that you had been too busy making heart eyes at Jimin to even give it a cursory browse. “Is there anything you recommend?”

The waiter reached over a little to direct you a slip of paper on your table that had gone unnoticed until this moment. “You can find our current specials here—I’m a big fan of the salmon, but everything on there is excellent. And we’re actually currently running a dinner for two special, that’s been really popular. One appetizer to share, two entrées, and a dessert to share.”

Yes, it didn’t surprise you that that would be popular—along with how nice the restaurant was, you had noticed immediately when walking in that it was filled with couples who were clearly having romantic nights out.

“I think we’re still deciding on food.” Jimin’s voice cut through your thoughts. “But can we please see a wine list?”

Wine? Your brow raised, not opposed, but surprised. In all the time you’ve known each other, alcohol has certainly never been a stranger—you’ve had late night study sessions together, accompanied by chicken and beer; you’ve gotten shitfaced together at bars after particularly rough exams. But something about this felt…different. In this restaurant, much fancier than you anticipated, surrounded by couples, sitting across a candlelit table from where Jimin was poring over a wine selection that you knew had to be really expensive—this was undoubtedly more intimate.

You idly cleared your throat, not daring to linger too long on the dots your mind couldn’t help but connect. Because it obviously couldn’t be that. It had to be a coincidence.

“_____,” Jimin said, the slight raise in his voice cluing you in that this wasn’t the first time he had tried to get your attention. “How does this one sound?”

You blinked our of your thoughts, finding both him and the waiter looking at you expectantly. “Whatever you choose is fine!” you croaked, slapping on a smile for good measure.

“Excellent choice. I’ll bring it right out,” the waiter said with an affirmative tilt of his head, and then the two of you were alone again.

It was quiet for a bit while you both properly perused your menus, though from the corner of your eye, the curious glances Jimin was sending you didn’t escape your notice. You were acting weird. You were acting weird and he could clearly tell you were acting weird, but ever since you noticed the restaurant’s romantic atmosphere, you couldn’t help it.

“These prices are kinda wild, huh?” came your attempt at normal conversation.

Jimin took it in stride, lips curling in amusement. “Yeah, they’re definitely overcharging for those stuffed mushrooms. But don’t worry about it—I invited you out, so this is my treat.”

You shook your head immediately. “No, no, I can’t let you do that! I was just making a comment. Don’t worry, I have enough money to pay.”

He let out a bemused sigh, shaking his head, and if you didn’t happen to be looking directly at him, you might have missed him say under his breath, “You’re not gonna make this date easy for me, huh?”

You immediately choked on your own spit, eyes bugging at what you thought you heard. “D-Date?” you repeated incredulously.

Jimin’s spine went stiff, eyes widening as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. You could only watch in amazement as it was his turn to look shy, pointedly averting his gaze to his menu and letting out a chuckle that sounded suspiciously nervous to your bemused ears. When you continued to gape at him, waiting for some sort of explanation, he was forced to continue.

“Yeah,” he hedged cautiously. “That’s what I’d hoped. Would that be a bad thing?”

You couldn’t answer right away, staring him down like he had grown two heads and wondering when he was going to burst out laughing with a Gotcha! You should have seen your face.

Always one for great timing, the waiter chose that moment to come back with your wine, taking his sweet time pouring it into each of your glasses and cheerfully chatting about the region it came from. You didn’t hear a single word, too focused on the way Jimin studiously avoided your stare, on the noticeable flush that had risen up his neck and was fanning across his cheeks. It was only after you apologetically asked for more time for your meal orders—your mind too frazzled to pick something on the spot—that he left again. Jimin took a long swig from his wineglass.

“Sorry,” he murmured, still not looking at you. “I probably should have let you know my intention beforehand, but I was nervous you wouldn’t come, or I’d chicken out of doing it, or—”

“Your intention?” you parroted dazedly.

Another generous swallow of wine, the liquid courage coaxing his eyes to meet yours. “I wanted to take you out somewhere really nice,” he admitted. “Show you a good time and work up the nerve to properly ask you out again.”

“On a. Date?” Your lashes fluttered, an involuntary response to your brain short-circuiting. “With me.”

His lips twitched. “Yes, with you, silly.”

“Why?”

“You’re really going to make me say it? Before our food gets here?” He was fiddling with his napkin, but despite his clear nervousness, his gaze was now unwavering and his voice was clear. “Because I like you, _____. I have for a long time.”

These were words that you had only heard him whisper in your wildest dreams, when your subconscious thoughts were no longer being restrained by your common sense. And as such, you could only gape at him, sure you were about to wake up any second.

Your unintentional silence triggered Jimin’s tongue into overdrive, and you could only struggle to make sense of his rambling as he proceeded to tell you how much your friendship meant to him and how he was afraid confessing how he felt would affect it, but he just couldn’t take it anymore. How his feelings for you were growing by the day, and the recent time spent away from you was maddening and only confirmed to him how much he wanted to be with you. And so he felt he had to at least put it out there and try.

And the longer he talked, the more your eyes welled up with horrified tears, panic gripping you by the throat and squeezing, tight, tight.

This was nothing short of a nightmare.

You would have never agreed to your arrangement with the Kims if you had thought in a million years Jimin would have ever been a serious option for you.

Absolutely not. You would have swallowed your pride, maybe taken that loan from Tae instead. Would have also taken as many odd jobs as you could to pay him back, would have forgone sleep completely and struggled ten times more than you were now just so you could pay off your debts. Hell, you would have even just fucking dropped out. Would have taken the semester off and attempted to come back whenever you could scrounge up the appropriate funds.

But never, never ever, would you have done what you had done.

Because now, not only were you contractually unable to be with the man you’ve—in an attempt at self-preservation—refused to acknowledge you were in love with, but even if you found some legal way to quit now…there was zero chance Jimin would still want you when he knew. Less than zero. And you couldn’t blame him for that, because who would?

Beyond overwhelmed, you did the only sensible thing you could in that moment—you burst into tears.

Your sudden sniveling immediately halted Jimin’s rambling, eyes wide in alarm and looking every bit as distressed as you. “Ah—don’t cry!” He leaned over the table, cradling your face in his hands and swiping your tears with his thumbs. “You don’t have to feel the same way, _____. I’ll get over it, please don’t cry—”

“No,” you blubbered, beyond miserable. He couldn’t be more wrong. “I do! Jimin, I feel exactly the same way, I just…” Your eyes welled up anew, unable to tell him the truth. “I c-can’t.”

“You can’t?” he repeated, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His eyes roved your face for any possible answers, nibbling slightly on his bottom lip in thought. “…Is this…” His thumbs were still caressing your cheeks, gaze gentle and open as he quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying the two of you any attention. When it was clear no one was giving your table more than a few curious glances, he said quieter, “…Is this about the arrangement you have with Tae?”

Everything froze. Your eyes locked, Jimin patiently waiting for your reply. Hysteria trickled through your veins, held only a bay by the disbelief slamming into you harder than a freight train. “W-What arrangement?” you blurted reflexively, a touch too loudly to be believable.

It was Jimin’s turn be caught off guard, hands slowly dropping from your face and returning to his side of the table, though he was still leaned over it so he could still whisper to you, “You know.” He looked at you pointedly, mouth downturning a bit in his confusion. “With him and his brothers. The arrangement.”

Jesus Christ, this was not happening. There was no way that this was actually happening to you. There was no way that the man who unknowingly held your heart in the palm of his hand was fully aware that you were fucking his best friend for money. Deny, deny! “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

He didn’t say anything for a few moments, still visibly puzzled. But the two of you only sat in an awkward silence for a few more moments before he snapped his fingers, a light bulb clearly going off. “Ah! You can’t say anything because you signed an NDA, right?”

You swallowed thickly, unable do anything more in that very moment than stupidly stare at him like a deer in the headlights.

“I’m sorry, that was stupid of me,” Jimin chuckled, smacking his forehead for good measure. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize that sooner. Obviously you’re under NDA.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Weren’t sure from the gentle smile he was now sending you if he even expected a response from you. Luckily, Jimin kept talking.

“But it’s okay—I already know everything, so you don’t have to hide it,” he reassured you. You didn’t feel assured. You felt like you were in the Twilight Zone. “Taehyung told me about your agreement when you started it months ago.”

If you were flustered before, that was nothing on what you were feeling now. Now, half-thoughts were ricocheting across your brain too quickly for you to grasp anything of substance but your internal screeching. “You know everything?” you repeated incredulously. This time it was you who leaned over the table, meeting him in the middle. “Taehyung told you?!”

“Of course he did!” Color rebloomed across his cheeks, but he didn’t shy away from the bewildered stare down you were giving him. “He’s my best friend and he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be stepping on any toes. He…knows how I feel about you.” When you only continued to stare at him, he nervously added, “Who do you think got me the reservation for this place to begin with? The waitlist is literally a year out.”

“I’m sorry, I just—” You pulled back so you could reach for your wineglass, allowing yourself a few healthy sips to give your mouth something to do other than flap about like an idiot while you stalled. Jimin didn’t call you out on it, just waited patiently and topped off your glass when you set it back down again.

You took a few steadying breaths, ultimately choosing to lean back closer to Jimin. To the casual onlooker, the two of you were just another couple making heart eyes over a romantic dinner. And considering the rather lewd and illegal turn your conversation had just taken in this very public place, that only worked in your favor. “Let me get this straight,” you whispered, carefully choosing your words in case you still managed to garner an unwanted audience. “Taehyung told you the deal he has with me. Months ago.” Jimin nodded. “And you’ve known this entire time about our…arrangement, but never told me you knew.”

“I swear I didn’t at all mean to keep that a secret,” he murmured, expression contrite. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or embarrass you or anything like that, so I’ve just been waiting on you to bring it up at your own pace. But I didn’t take into account that you would never bring it up because you would be under NDA, which, again, now that I say it out loud was an extremely stupid assumption of me not to make. I’m sorry.”

“So. You have feelings for me,” you reiterated, ignoring the delighted shiver that raced up your spine at the words. You had to be sure. “But it didn’t bother you that your best friend…propositioned me? You have no problem with me being…involved with him and his brothers?”

“You were caught between a rock and a hard place and the grind never stops. You know I know that better than anybody,” he replied with a shrug. He swallowed, discreetly ensuring no one was paying the two of you any attention before he added, “You think you’re the only one who’s sucked dick for money?”

Your eyes widened, jaw dropping a little before you could catch it. Was he…implying what you thought he was implying? There was no way. You had to be reading into it.

But ultimately, all of this was irrelevant. When the ghost of Seokjin’s mouth on you came to you unbidden—the phantom weight of Taehyung’s body, the haunting reprimand of Namjoon’s stern hand—

You shook your head, unsuccessfully dispelling those unwanted, lingering thoughts. Your gaze skirted to the table, despondent and embarrassed as you finally set free your hushed admission. “Jimin, I’ve done more than suck dick for my money.”

There was a pause, an agonizing one that felt like an eternity, and then he was lifting your chin with a finger and guiding you to meet his eyes.

“Again.” He reached for your hands, thumb tracing patterns over your knuckles. His smile was a soft secret. “You think you’re the only one?”

He held your gaze, not looking away even though your mouth just flapped uselessly as you struggled to regain your bearings. So he did mean—

“Does knowing that bother you?” Jimin asked quietly, expression now carefully neutral. Seriously asking, and giving you the proper space to process and answer. “Does it change anything?”

“No.” The truth, though delayed, left you as easily as a breath. He was still Jimin. “Of course not.”

Jimin’s resulting grin turned his eyes into crescents. “Soooo…what I’m hearing is that we’re clearly on the same page and are both Team Fuck Bitches, Get Money.”

Boy, did you wish you could smile back. Wish you could share in his obvious relief. But while you assumed his exploits were in the past, the same couldn’t be said for you, who was actively under contract. “Jimin, I’m still…employed,” you couldn’t help but point out. “And still will be for a while. That really doesn’t bother you?”

“It really doesn’t,” he insisted. But your continued hesitance had him pulling back from you, hands busying themselves with reaching for his wineglass as he carefully asked, “Should it? Is there something else I should know?” A couple sips of wine to steel himself before a cautious, “Do you have feelings for any of them?”

“No!” you blurted. Despite the amount of time and intimacy you had been spending with the Kims, romantic feelings had never even crossed your mind. Your pussy certainly felt some things when she was getting some action, but your heart had never gotten involved. Your heart was too busy crowding in your throat at that very moment, threatening to fling itself at the man in front of you.

Jimin took your sincerity for what it was, a pleased twist to his lips. “Then it’s all fine with me. And again, Tae’s been aware from the beginning that I’ve been intending to ask you out, so that expectation has been there since the beginning. All three of them agreed to the deal knowing that I might be in the picture if I ever decided to put my big boy pants on and tell you how I feel. They’ve been expecting it, so they’re cool with it.”

“They’re cool with it,” you parroted blankly, completely flabbergasted. This was absolutely not how you foresaw this night going, and you never would have thought your life would ever take a turn like this in a million years. “They’re cool with it, and so are you?”

“I don’t mind sharing your time,” he shrugged. “So long as I’m not sharing you.”

“And you don’t see that as the same thing in this…situation?” you asked incredulously. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

Jimin puffed out an amused laugh. “Wow, you really are trying to talk me out of this, huh?”

You waved your hands. “Absolutely not, that is the last thing I want! I just. I come with a lot of baggage, and I don’t want any of it to come as a surprise. As busy as I’ve been the last couple weeks? That’s becoming a reoccurring normal. And Jimin, I just feel really shitty.” You swallowed. “Because I can’t promise you everything that you deserve to be promised right now.”

Jimin’s face softened as he listened to you, visibly much more comfortable now that you had successfully reassured him just how badly you wanted this. And oh, did you want it. You weren’t sure how this could ever work, but god did you want it to.

“Not fair,” he repeated under his breath, eyes glazed over in thought. “Hmmm.”

“Is there anything I could do?” you hedged. You weren’t really sure what that could possibly be, considering the ironclad situation you were in. But now that you had been given a glimmer of your heart’s desire, you couldn’t let it fade away. Not if you could help it.

His reply wasn’t immediate, still lost in thought. But when his eyes finally refocused on you, smoldering and intense, you couldn’t help the way your breath caught in response, the way your heart quickened. “Here’s an idea of what we can do to make it fair. What if you continue to work for them, just as you are now. And then…”

He was thoughtlessly swirling his wineglass, momentum pulling the ruby liquid into slow, circling waves that would be rather hypnotizing if you weren’t already caught in the snare of his gaze. When he leaned across the table again, the way you followed suit was as easy as breathing. A lovesick sailor willingly lured to possible danger by a siren’s song. “Whatever you do for them, you do for me. How does that sound?”

You let out a soft breath, just the thought of it immediately electrifying your every atom. Sparks danced excitedly beneath your skin, his soft, sultry tone curling your toes in their shoes.

“Fair.”

His Adam’s apple dipped excitedly, lips parting.

“So sorry to interrupt,” someone suddenly said from beside you. It was the waiter again. You had completely forgotten about him. Completely forgotten everything other than the restless tap of Jimin’s fingers against the table. “I just wanted to check in to see if you were ready to order?”

“Yes, I think so.” You didn’t look away from Jimin—still hadn’t even glanced at the menu. Your tongue swiped over your lips, and his gaze darkened in response.

“But I think we’d like it to go.”

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#taehyung smut #namjoon smut #seokjin smut #bts fic #bts smut #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #jimin x reader #mine #husband #bae #mr. worldwide #the tempter #fic: satisfy

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